


Paper Planes

by likebunnies



Category: JAG
Genre: Adultery, F/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-09
Updated: 2013-09-09
Packaged: 2017-12-26 02:50:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 64,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/960698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likebunnies/pseuds/likebunnies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This story is set through various time periods while Mac and Harm are missing. Mac's husband, Mic Brumby, is left with is a box of folded paper airplanes. This story flashes back on the story behind those paper planes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paper Planes

**Author's Note:**

> This story was completed in October of 2001 and was based on anything that might have happened on the show up to that point. I'm just posting some of my older stuff. --Jori

PART I

September 12, 2010

I hold the phone to my ear, trying to catch what they're saying to me, but not quite able to listen to every word. It doesn't matter much. It is the same thing they've said or asked the last five damn times they have called me. I can't help them much because I just don't have the answers they need.

"If you can remember anything at all, Mr. Brumby, it will be of great help to us. We are doing everything . . ." the man starts to say, but I cut him off.

"You're doing everything you can to find Sarah. I know. I've heard it all before, mate. I don't want to hear from you again until you have something conclusive to tell me," I say, turning the phone off and sending it flying across the bed. It smacks up against the headboard and comes to rest between the pillows. I sit down on the end of our bed and bury my face in my hands, wanting for this to all end. I just want her to walk through that door and be home and not the object of some massive search and rescue.

Sarah went off yesterday morning and never came home. I know where she is. I just don't want my suspicions confirmed. It is easier to sit here and pretend someone took her than it is to know she went willingly . . .

"Daddy, the phone is ringing."

I look up at May standing in the doorway, looking as scared as a six year old should during all this. I look over my shoulder and see the damn thing sitting there but I can't hear it. I'm surprised I heard my daughter talking. May runs over and answers it with a feeble 'hello' before handing it over to me.

"Mr. Brumby, we found your wife's car."

"You did," I say, not quite asking where. May stands before me, looking up with curiosity. She's got her mother's eyes. So beautiful . . .

"Yes, sir. It was at a little airfield in Virginia. According to the operator of the field, she left with . . ."

"I know."

I don't want to hear him say it.

"We will be contacting the FAA shortly about beginning a search . . . unless there is something you know?"

I know what he is asking. And I don't really know the answer to his question right now. She would have said something if she wasn't going to be home, wouldn't she? My stomach churns away, not knowing what to do or say. Christ, I feel like such the fool.

"Yes, contact the FAA. I can't imagine that Sarah would be gone this long," I tell the man on the other end of the line and listen to him go through the whole speech about contacting me again if they find out anymore. I hang up the phone once more but don't fling it across the bed this time.

May is still looking at me, waiting on me to have all the answers. I wish I did.

"May, luv? Is the sitter still here?" I ask and she nods yes. "Can you give Daddy a couple of minutes alone, please, sweetheart? I'll be right out."

She leaves quietly and shuts the door behind her.

I open Sarah's closet door, something I never do. I never go into her personal space, never invade her privacy. Up in the corner is a box that I've noticed before, when she had the door open, but never asked about. I've always trusted her completely. I pull it off the shelf and shake it a little. Sounds like paper. Nothing more.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, I pull the lid off slowly and peer inside.

Paper airplanes. Lots of neatly folded little airplanes of all different sizes and colors.

An anger wells up inside of me so quickly that I throw the box up against the wall, crushing half of those planes with their delicate paper wings with one blow. I stare at them for at least ten minutes before I can finally stand up off this bed -- our bed -- and pick one of the notes up.

I unfold it carefully, not wanting to wreck a single precious crease.

Inside, in a masculine handwriting are the words:

Come fly with me.

It is followed by a date and time. I look over at all the planes lying damaged on the floor, knowing that they all contain the same message. I look at the date on this one again before I crumple it in my hand.

************

June 18, 2001

"These just arrived for you, ma'am," Harriet says as she carries a huge bouquet of flowers into my office. "Happy Anniversary, Colonel."

"Thank you, Harriet. Oh, aren't they beautiful," I say, taking the vase from her and setting it on the corner of my desk. I look through the flowers for the card, already knowing who they are from. Mic and I have been married for one year as of yesterday. We spent the weekend at the beach, celebrating our anniversary splashing around in the ocean and making love in our hotel room.

"You look so happy, ma'am. I'm so glad the two of you just look so . . . happy," Harriet says and we both laugh. "You are happy, aren't you, ma'am?"

"Mic and I are very happy, Harriet. The only thing that would make us happier is if we had the pitter patter of little feet running around like you and Bud have, but all in good time," I say, finding the card and sitting back down in my chair. Harriet remains there, still smiling. She looks good. So content with her family. I wish it would happen for us, too.

I open the envelope, expecting to find one of those generic cards the florists send, but it is a piece of notepaper that Mic must have taken there himself. I unfold it and my breath catches in my throat when I read the words scrawled across the blue sheet of paper.

'Come fly with me'

There's no signature. There doesn't need to be one. I fold it back up and set it down as quickly as I can, as if the paper was burning my fingers. In a way, it was.

"Is something wrong, ma'am?" Harriet asks. Is it that obvious from my expression that this isn't what I was expecting?

"No, Harriet. Not at all," I say, trying to put a smile on my face. She smiles back, but there's something in her eyes that lets me know I'm not very convincing. "I, um, need to make a few phone calls. Do you know what case Commander Rabb is working on?"

"The Commander is in Norfolk with Bud, ma'am, working on the Mullens case. Bud told me not to expect him back today," Harriet says, pouting a little at the thought of her husband not returning for the night.

"Thank you, Harriet," I say, picking up the phone. She leaves my office and pulls the door shut behind her without me having to ask. As soon as she is gone from sight, I set the phone down back on its cradle.

I pick up the note again and unfold it, reading the words once more.

It says the same thing. 'Come fly with me' followed by a date and time. I look at my calendar and actually, it is a time that I am free. He must have have checked my calendar before doing this.

I'm torn between crumpling up the note and throwing it as hard as I can at the wall or running right out there on that date and time just like he expects me to. Damn him. Why now? We've barely spoken outside of the office for a year now. I was so certain all those feeling were gone. I'm married. I'm *happily* married.

And maybe I'm reading too much into this. He takes Bud flying all the time and I'm sure they aren't having some tempestuous affair. He just wants to reconnect. To be friends again. Nothing more.

We should be friends again. It is about time. We've wasted this past year being so angry at each other for something that could never be and it is time to move on. To mend fences.

I carefully fold up the little note and set it aside. It would probably be best if I didn't let Mic know where I was going at first. I don't think he cares if Harm and I are ever friends again. Actually, he'd be quite happy if Harm would just disappear off the face of the earth. But I think being friends will be good.

I'm going to go.

************

June 21, 2001

I look up from the work I'm doing on the plane to discover Mac walking across the field in this direction. I wasn't sure that she was going to come. Now, with my heart banging away up against my ribcage just because she showed up, I'm not so sure this was a good idea.

What in the hell was I thinking? What am I going to say? I suppose an apology would be a good start. I can't tell from her expression if she is mad or not. She has her hands shoved down deep into the pockets of her jeans and she only looks up at me twice on her whole trek across the field.

"Hey," I say when she stops in front of me. We are separated by the expanse of the wing and she pulls a piece of notepaper out of her pocket and sets it down.

"I don't hear from you for a year outside the walls of the office or unless it has to do specifically with work, and now this? Flowers. Notes. Airplane rides. What's up, Harm?" she asks, our eyes both focused on the paper instead of each other.

"Time to mend fences?" I offer, taking the blue sheet of paper out from under her fingertips. I begin carefully folding it into the perfect paper airplane, getting the aerodynamics down as well as one can with a creased sheet of paper.

"The time to mend fences has come and gone . . ."

"I'm sorry, Mac," I say, still folding the paper. It gives me something to do so I don't have to meet her stare. I'm afraid of what I'll see there. At work for the past year, I've seen nothing in her eyes. She has done extremely well at showing no emotion at all. Better than I have in some occasions. "What I did was wrong. What I said was wrong. Now I realize how happy you and Mic are and I just want to apologize for thinking that your marriage would be anything but . . . happy. Please accept my apology?"

I now look up at her, our eyes locking on to the other's. Hers fluctuate between hostility and something else I can't quite figure out. Something I haven't seen in a long time. I hold up the little airplane I just made and place it in her hands. It elicits a little smile.

"Apology . . . almost accepted," she says, the flicker of her smile vanishing from her face.

"I know. I'm sorry. If you don't want to come with today, I understand, but I appreciate you giving me the chance to explain some things," I say, leaning on the wing toward her. She leans in toward me, too. The little paper airplane is between us, the wind moving it around just slightly.

"That isn't it, Harm. I want you to apologize to Mic, too. Then it will be accepted," she says, her eyes letting me know how serious she is. I grimace. I can't help it. I've dodged Mic at all costs for all this time. When we would bump into each at mandatory social events, he'd give me that cocky smile that I always wanted to knock off his face, so it was just better if I avoided him.

"You're kidding, right?" I ask, not believing she would ask me this.

"If you want me to ever go up in your little plane again, you better promise to apologize to Mic. He's my husband now, Harm. I know you think you can be friends with just one of us but not with the other, but that will get a little difficult as time goes on," she says, her eyes begging me to agree. I want to agree. I want to be friends with her again.

"Okay, I'll do it. Hell, I'll even take him up in the plane someday as a demonstration of . . . good faith," I say, searching for the right words for what I feel. Faith certainly has nothing to do with it.

No, what I feel is regret. But I'm not going to live under that forever. Time to let it go. Time to be friends again.

"You only want to take him up there so you can dump him out somewhere over Virginia and hope we never hear from him again," Mac says with a knowing smile. She does know me well. After all these years, she should.

"Mac, I know you love the guy and I would never intentionally do anything to hurt someone you care for," I say and she finally looks down and away from me. Her hand glides across 'Sarah's' smooth, yellow surface as if she's trying to brush away something that's just not there.

"How about unintentionally? Would you hurt someone you cared for unintentionally? If you couldn't help yourself?" she asks, looking back up at me. Her brown eyes are filled with hurt again. Maybe it really is too late for us. I'm not even sure what she's asking me. Just as always, we seem to be talking about things neither of us has answers for.

Just then her hand goes from the surface of the wing to cover one of mine. I close my eyes at the warmth and wish I had done so many things differently. So many things . . .

"I don't think now would be a good time to start hurting people unintentionally, either, Sarah," I say, my voice so low I can barely hear myself. When I open my eyes, she pulls her hand back and her molten chocolate eyes are no longer showing any hurt.

"You ready to take me to heaven?" she asks as she looks up to the sky, her voice sounding nervous. As if her heart is beating a million miles an hour there in her chest.

"Always," I answer.

********************

June 21, 2001

I'm still laughing. I can't believe how much fun this is when nothing goes horribly wrong. I'm used to things going wrong with Harm, and even though I'm aware he's a good pilot, he and I just have bad karma together or something. The plane stops right where it was when I met him this morning and I can hear that he's laughing, too.

Harm is out of the plane quickly, offering me his hand to help me down. I guess he forgot I'm the tough Marine who doesn't need the help of a Squid lawyer.

"I can do it," I say, climbing easily out of his little biplane. Just at the last second, I lose my footing and slip faster than I can catch myself. Luckily Harm is still standing there, spotting me. I fall into his arms and he doesn't let me go.

Then after a few moments, he still doesn't let me go. His arms are wrapped around my waist, my head pressed against his chest and his heart is pounding as fast as mine. I feel one of his hands slide up my back until it is under my hair, lightly touching my neck. What in the hell is happening here?

We are both already so warm from flying through the summer sky burning under the afternoon sun, but now that heat is traveling through me so fast I can't stand it. His one hand moves from my neck to my face and now that flowing heat moves to places it doesn't belong and I want to back away. I don't want to have to make this choice right now. God damn it, if he wanted this, he should have spoken up a year ago. Not now.

His hands feel so good. His fingers on my lips feel even better. I want his lips there and not just a brush by the pad of his thumb. I want. I want. I want.

But I can't have it.

I jerk away from him, pulling my body from his arms. Harm holds his hands up in some sort of apologetic fashion and my mind is still reeling, trying to put together what happened.

Nothing happened. This was nothing -- just Harm. Just Harm being Harm and catching me as I fell. But fell from what? Shit. it would be so damn easy to fall further. Damn him.

"I'm sorry. Are you okay?" he asks and I look at him, knowing that the warmth cascading through my body has turned from a needful, wanting warmth to one of anger. I'm angry at myself for wanting something I can never have. I know he can see it in my eyes.

"Yeah. I'm okay," I say, my voice not all that convincing.

He turns around and starts to do something to his plane. I already know neither of us will say another word about this for a long time.

I also know this empty feeling that was just recreated isn't going to just go away.

************

PART II

September 12, 2010

I have all her -- all 'their' little notes unfolded and sorted. Even the ones I crushed I've smoothed out so they can join the others. I keep resorting them, once by color. Once again by size. But the most important way I have sorted them is by the date written on them. Leave it to Harmon Rabb to write the date with the year right there on each slip, as if Sarah might show up the next year if he didn't. I guess he didn't want to take any chances with my wife.

Bastard. And my wife . . .

Hell, I don't even know what to think. My wife. My wife and Harmon Rabb.

Blue. Yellow. White. Yellow. Blue. Big. Little. Medium sized. Big. I sort them again. It's easier when they are sorted that way rather than by date. I don't think I want to sort them again that way, like some time line of betrayal.

But I have to. I count them again and I hope all of them made it into the box. I'd hate to think that there are more out there. Or that he has half of them.

I lean back against the wall and swipe my hand through the pile of paper, sending the notes into the air again. Back into the air where they belong. Damn it, Sarah. Why didn't you just tell me? I reach for the beer I opened hours ago, taking a sip and letting the bitter, warm fluid flow down my throat. I can't really taste much anyway. Everything is numb.

I'm not sure who I'm more pissed at right now. Mac? Rabb? Myself? Yes, probably myself most of all. The longer this all settles in, the more I'm sure I knew this whole time. Of course I knew. I'm not the complete fool they've made me out to be. Christ, what would I'd give to be able to go back when I still had a chance to say something to her about this.

Dammit, Mic. Sarah isn't dead. She'll be home again. And then the two of us will have to deal with all this. A part of me I don't want to acknowledge almost believes it would be better if they were both dead. Then the painful excuses wouldn't have to be said.

The babysitter knocks on the half open door to tell me she's leaving. She's been here for hours, taking care of May while I wallow in self pity.

"Thanks for everything, Mrs. Keller," I say to her as I sit in the middle of a pile of small pieces of paper.

"Sarah will be okay," the woman adds for my benefit. She begins to button up her sweater as she prepares to walk home in the evening air.

"I know," I say. "I know she'll be okay."

But will I?

The woman nods her head and leaves, pulling the door shut.

I pick up a piece of paper, discovering I have them all memorized by now. I can put them in order without even looking at the date written across them.

This is the next time. My fingers run over his handwriting. I wonder what he was thinking. What was she thinking? Were they even thinking? Christ, this is the worst thing I've ever endured.

This one ends up crumbled into a ball in my fist as I try to obliterate it from the face of the earth.

But I can't.

*****************

April 24, 2003

"We'll reconvene this hearing at 0900 tomorrow morning. Maybe by then the two of you can get your stories straight," Admiral McDonnough instructs from the bench. He gives Mac and me a stern look and I just wish like hell this whole controversy would go away.

"Aye, aye, Sir," we both say in time with each other. Well, hell, it's good we agree on something. Every other issue concerning this case and everything else going on around us has been one constant battleground. She's constantly angry about something.

We leave the courtroom with Mac ten paces ahead of me and clipping steadily toward the elevator.

"Mac, come on. What in the hell is bothering you so much?" I ask, catching up to her and reaching out for her coat sleeve. She turns toward me, her eyes hot and fiery as coals.

"I can't believe we have to work on this together. This is a case that would normally require just one of us as lead counsel and someone else as co-counsel, but not the two of us together. I don't have any idea why the Admiral assigned both of us to this . . . mess," she says. So far, we have not agreed on a single issue that's come up pertaining to the Littleton case. It has been one big argument after another.

"Bud and Singer are prosecution and we were assigned to the defense. . . I don't know why the Admiral did it, Mac, and I'm sorry we've disagreed about everything, but we've got to provide that man with a decent defense. He's on trial for murder and we it owe it to him to act like we have a clue about what we are doing. We've got to look a little more professional than we did in there right now," I say, my words not extinguishing those flames in her eyes in any way.

"Sure. I'll get right to work on my professionalism."

We haven't worked together on a case in over a year. She's been opposing counsel several times and we've done Jagman investigations together, but it's been a long time since we've had to work this close on the same team like this. The only thing worse is if we had to go through this trial with each other on a submarine.

Or maybe that would be a good thing. Yes, if the two of us were stuck somewhere like a submarine and could just hash this whole thing out, maybe things would get better. They can't get much worse than they are right now.

Mac presses the button for the elevator and we both stand there in silence, waiting for the doors to slide open. They don't, but something makes a loud grinding noise behind the doors and I'm certainly glad we're on this side. Being stuck somewhere like a submarine is one thing, but I'm not sure the two of us could survive an elevator.

"Could anything else go wrong today?" Mac asks loudly, giving the elevator doors a kick with the toe of her pumps. She immediately winces in pain while shaking her foot out and I can see that tears have involuntarily come to her eyes.

"Yes," I answer, my tone more smug than I intended it to be. "More could go wrong today."

"Well, are you going to help me get up the stairs or are you going to just stand there?" Mac asks, her face still pinched up in pain.

"Come on, Marine. Don't tell me a broken toe is going to keep you from making it up the stairs by yourself," I say and she starts to hobble toward the stairwell without me. I offer her my arm and unbelievably, she takes it. "I'm sorry. I'll help you."

"You should help, since this is your fault," she says, gripping my arm tighter than she needs to. Her fingers dig in through my coat and now I'm wincing in pain.

"How is this my fault?" I ask. She's truly unbelievable.

"It just is," she says. And then for the first time in a long time, she laughs.

*****************

April 25, 2003

"Here's some files from Commander Rabb, ma'am. He said he'd be out all afternoon but if you had any questions, you could reach him later," Tiner says, placing on my desk a stack of folders so high I can hardly see over them. This is certainly going to ruin all my weekend plans. I'm supposed to pick Mic up at the airport on Sunday and I really wanted to get some things done tomorrow before he returned.

"Thanks, Tiner," I say with a disgruntled sigh. He turns and leaves my office as I continue to stare at the daunting task before me.

Damn him. Rabb said he was going to handle this part of the case and now he's pawning it off on me. Probably is planning on leaving town with some blonde or another. I find it unnecessary to keep track of them anymore.

This case has been hell and neither Rabb nor I seem to be able to agree about any of it. I swear the Admiral is punishing me for something by making me work with him like this. The investigation on the USS Harry S. Truman was more than miserable. I threw up constantly and I was really hoping that would be the month Mic and I would have some good news and I would be pregnant. Instead, I got home from that horrible investigation and found out I wasn't. Another disappointment.

I grab the top folder and a note flutters out of it upon opening. I watch as it travels to the floor, spinning gently on its way there like a crisp autumn leaf off of a tree. I watch it and catch my breath as it lands softly but yet, I swear it makes a sound so loud I have to look around to see if any one else heard.

Outside my office windows, everybody goes about their business as if nothing happened. I lean over and pick up the paper, already knowing who it's from. I open the single fold and read it.

'Come fly with me.'

Damn him again. The last time we tried this we ended up not speaking to each other for weeks. Nothing happened. Not a damn thing, but I couldn't get over the feeling that something could. So easily, something could happen and I didn't like that feeling. I'm married to Mic. I don't want anyone else. I don't. I can't. I won't.

I don't think I do.

The date is for tomorrow. I shouldn't. Mic has been gone for three weeks and I wanted to do something nice for his return. I shouldn't be out flying around with Harmon Rabb.

But I know I will be.

****************

April 26, 2003

"I'm glad you came," I say as I watch Mac walk around the wing and approach me. Her demeanor is so different than the last time we did this. Her face isn't as angry. It's even less angry than it was this past week during this whole Littleton case.

But instead of looking angry, she looks sad. I can't imagine why. From where I'm standing, she has it all. A husband. A great career. And a four bedroom house they just bought a few months ago. I've been waiting to hear about a baby coming soon, but so far, she hasn't delivered that bit of news. I thought that might have been the reason she was so sick when we were out on the Truman, but if it is, she hasn't said so.

That would make her happy. I want nothing more than for her to be happy.

Or so I keep telling myself.

"It's a nice day. I figured, what the hell. I have nothing better to do than go flying with Rabb," Mac says and she chuckles softly at something. I'm not sure what.

"I'm sure you had a lot of better things to do with Mic coming home tomorrow," I say, looking at her as her eyes meet mine and lock on. She never told me that bit of information. "I checked your calendar. To see if you were free today."

"Yes, and besides that, I now have a pile of paperwork stacked up to the ceiling thanks to you," Mac says.

"I'll take some of it back. I just wanted to make sure you'd look at what I sent you and find the note . . ."

It is in her hand, held lightly between two fingers. She holds it out to me and I take it from her, our fingers brushing for just a few seconds, but long enough to make her look down and away from me.

"How's your foot?" I ask, wanting to remind her that I helped her up the stairs the other day. I held onto her arm then and our fingers brushing like that shouldn't mean anymore than that did.

Yet, somehow it does. When we are beyond the confines off the job and the uniform, everything changes.

"It's better, thanks," she says, looking down as she shakes her foot out. While she's doing that, I quickly fold the paper into another paper airplane for her, only this time I make it a little different. Not as aerodynamically perfect as the last, but it will work. "You do realize it is your fault, don't you?"

"I'll accept the blame for your foot if you come flying with," I say, watching her pluck from my fingertips the little plane that I offer. She looks at the design and raises an eyebrow at its quirkiness. "It will fly."

"I'm sure it will," she says, with a soft smile as she tucks it into the pocket of her jeans, careful just to flatten it and not crush the paper. "When I said it was your fault, I wasn't talking about just my foot."

I continue to stare at her, waiting for her to explain herself. I don't know what I would be at fault for. Her life should be bliss. She has everything she ever wanted. They still even have that old mutt. Yet, there's always a look of sadness that underlies all the contentment. There is something missing and for some reason, it's my fault.

"How so?" I ask, wanting her to talk to me. We've done so little of that in our history together. We should be able to now. She responds only by shaking her head slowly, as if she's changed her mind about this conversation.

"It's nothing," she says, giving me a half smile. "You ready to go flying?"

************

I hear Harm laugh as he gives me the controls of his plane. Just the sound of it is enough to make me smile. Things have been tense between us. And things have been tense between Mic and me, too. Perhaps that's why he went to Australia to see his family when he knew I couldn't get leave. He didn't want another month of this stress we are both under.

"I'm going to land her here, Mac. We can go get some lunch in town since it isn't that far of a walk from this airstrip," Harm calls out to me as he takes over the controls again. He says something I don't understand into the headset to someone on the ground and they direct him in where to go.

I try to look and see where we are going. Harm must know all the little airfields in the area since they seem to know him. This one is small. Just a runway and one hangar. But I can see a small town along a river not that far down the road. I wonder how many other people he's brought here?

That doesn't matter. What he does is his business, not mine.

We touch down and come to a stop before the hangar. There aren't too many planes here and none like Harm's. Just a few Piper Cubs. Someone comes out of the office area and Harm climbs out of the plane to greet them.

This time, I get out all by myself without tripping up.

"Hey, Hank. This is Mac," Harm says to the older man and he just smiles while looking me over. His eyes stop at my hand with the wedding band on it and he looks back to Harm. "She's another JAG lawyer."

Like that explains any of this.

"Nice to meet you, ma'am," Hank says, reaching out to shake my hand.

"Hank flew Intruders in Vietnam and is nice enough to let me land here without charging me too much," Harm says and the man smiles, his eyes twinkling at the mention of the fact he was a military pilot. I'm sure he and Harm have had many discussions about this, but right now, I'm more interested in my rumbling stomach.

"You two go get something for lunch. I'll keep an eye on your plane," Hank says, focusing his attention on 'Sarah.' He smiles as he brushes his hand up against her yellow fuselage. Men and their toys.

"I'm sure you will. Are you ready, Mac?" Harm asks as he reaches out his hand to me for some reason. What does he think we are? A couple of kids walking down a country road together?

"Lead the way," I say, and he puts his hand back down again. I don't even think he was aware that he did it.

We walk for a long time in silence. Occasionally, he goes on ahead of me and ends up turning around and waiting for me to catch up. Or he walks back to me, meeting me in the middle.

"What's wrong?" he asks as he walks backwards in front of me so he can face me.

"Nothing you can help me with, Harm, so please stop asking," I say, looking off to the field we are walking next to. Spring wildflowers are everywhere alongside the road, their faces turned toward the warm afternoon sun. So far, not a single car has passed us. It is quiet here. A place people would want to raise families.

"Just because I can't help doesn't mean you can't talk about it," he says. He stops walking, forcing me to stop, too. We stand only inches from each other and something in me wants to tell him everything, but something else keeps telling me it's none of his business. "It might be good to get it off your chest."

"Harm, please," I say, my voice just a little angry. I don't need to be questioned by him. He shrugs his shoulders and turns around, staying several paces ahead of me the rest of the way to town.

****************

We pick up some take-out food from one of the local delis and walk to the park by the river. She still hasn't said much. She gave her order to the deli clerk and that was it. Mac just nodded when I asked if she wanted iced tea to go with her sandwich.

"Is this okay?" I ask, picking out one of the picnic benches under a little gazebo. It is well past lunch time by now and most of the other picnickers have gone off to play with their kids or are out swimming in the river. Mac watches the families and then looks back to me.

"Sure. This is great," she says, sitting in the middle of the bench on her side of the table. I watch as she unwraps her sandwich but only picks at her food. She said she was hungry. This is Mac. She's always hungry.

"You feeling okay? I know you were pretty sick out on the Truman. Are you feeling better now?" I ask. We've been on a lot of carriers together, and I've never seen her get this sick. Only when we've gone flying in a Tomcat have I seen her get that sick to her stomach.

I'm assuming that soon, she's going to break the news to me. Maybe that's what she's been hiding. Harriet was always so forthcoming acknowledging her pregnancies to the rest of the office. I don't know why Mac wouldn't want to share it, too.

"I'm sorry about that. I must have had the flu," is all she answers. She takes another bite of her sandwich and looks out over the river.

"Pink and blue flu?" I ask, just getting to the point.

She slowly turns my direction, her eyes narrowing in anger. What did I do now?

"No. Not that it's any of your business."

Mac turns back to look at the river. A family is getting into the water, their toddler screaming in glee. The water still has to be freezing, but that's not stopping them.

I don't think she's angry at me. I'm pretty sure it is something else entirely.

"How long have you been trying?" I ask, not really sure I want to venture into this topic. No, I know I don't, but she needs to talk to someone. Something is obviously wrong.

"Since we got married. Since before we got married. It isn't happening and right now, it is tearing us apart," she says softly, her eyes flitting everywhere but not meeting mine.

"I'm sorry."

I don't know what else to say. There is nothing else to say.

"It's not your . . . fault. No need to apologize," she says, finally looking up at me.

"What do the doctors say?" I ask. The wind picks up and blows through the gazebo, sending her bangs across her eyes. I reach over the table and brush them away, allowing my hand to linger there longer than I should.

"They don't know what the problem is. It could be so many things. Mic and I . . . we just want a family so badly. I love him and he loves me, but something is missing," she says, and with that declaration, I pull my hand away. What in the hell am I doing anyway?

"You can talk to me at any time. You know that, don't you?" I ask, wishing I had the nerve to talk openly to her years ago. I was scared of eternity. Mic wasn't.

She gives me a weak smile and keeps looking at me. "I'm not really hungry anymore. Should we just skip lunch and go for a walk along the river?" she asks, already folding her sandwich back up in its paper wrapper.

"Sure," I say, taking a quick bite of my sandwich before tossing it away in the trash can for the squirrels to eat.

I follow her along the shore until we are away from all the families making noise. An occasional high pitched child noise permeates the air, but besides that, there's no sound except the gurgling of the river.

Mac finally sits down under a tree, and she plucks several long blades of grass around her, tying them into various knots before tossing them to the side.

"Why did Mic go back to Australia?" I ask, sitting down next to her.

"Because . . . the last time the answer of the month was no, I got upset. I turned my anger at him and he said he just wanted to get away for a while. We needed time to think about this whole thing is what he said. And now we've thought about it and we are ready to live with whatever may come our way," she says. I stop her hand as she goes to pull more grass out of the ground, trying to contain her nervous energy.

Somehow, we go so easily from her hand under mine to her wrapped in my arms as she cries.

"I'm sorry," is all I can keep saying as I wipe her tears away.

"Marines shouldn't cry over this," she mumbles under all the tears.

"Mac, I would expect any Marine to cry over this. It's okay. Please don't apologize," I tell her, brushing one more tear off her cheek.

******************

He flies us back home before it gets too late. I still need to do some things before Mic gets home, like figure out how to explain where I spent today. Not that we did anything for which excuses need to be made. Harm just listened to me cry as he held on to me. And then we said nothing for a long time. We just watched the water flow by before we walked back up the street to the airfield.

This time he offers his hand to help me down from the plane and once again, I end up in his warm embrace. For a second I forget about Mic and our problems and he rocks me slowly in his arms.

"I don't want you to think you can't talk to me," he says. Oh, how I wish he realized that years ago. If one of us only said something. Anything. I tried. He tried. But the words meant nothing. His words sent me to Mic. My actions sent him to . . . I don't even remember her name. She's been gone for years, only to be replaced by some other blonde flavor of the week.

Now it is safe for Harm to talk to me. There is no threat of eternity. I look up at him and his eyes are staring at me with an intensity I've never seen before. Not directed at me, anyway.

We go so easily from looking at each other to acting upon everything behind that gaze. His mouth is on mine and I stifle a moan that stems from deep in my soul. He's kissing me this time. I don't know why. All I know is we shouldn't. But I can't stop. I need this. I need him. I always have.

My lips part and he sweeps his tongue in my mouth, penetrating me. The heat building up in my core is unbearable and I press him against the plane, needing more. My hands move up his abdomen, wanting to memorize every surface of his body in case I never get another stolen moment like this again. I need to keep it all in my mind . . . his taste, the sound he makes as I brush my hands across his chest, the hardness I'm rocking my hips against. That from just kissing me.

His mouth moves from mine and continues down my face, with him bending to get better access. I bare my shoulder, tugging my shirt to the side, and I feel his tender kisses slide across my collar bone. For just a second, all thoughts of babies and husbands and careers mean nothing. Just this man and what he's doing to me under the purple twilight sky.

My hands slide lower and across his fly, wanting so badly to open it right now. I want to fall on my knees and take him in my mouth. To taste him on my tongue instead of in my imagination. To discover one more thing about him I didn't know. I want it so badly. My fingers start to unbutton his jeans and the first and then the second buttons both go *pop,* breaking the silence around us.

That seems to bring him to his senses and he puts his hands over top of mine, pulling them away. Forcing me to step back.

"Sarah, I can't. You can't. We both know it," he says, his words coming out in between his panting breaths.

I blink at him a few times and I try to figure out when it got so dark. We weren't kissing for that long. Or were we?

I just turn and walk away from him, leaving Harmon Rabb all hot and bothered up against his airplane.

***************

PART III

September 13, 2010

I wake up to find myself on the floor. The notes are still here, all exactly where I tossed them last night. They surround me and I brush my hand across them, accepting the fact that they are real. The whole affair didn't vanish overnight. Whatever liquid that was in the last bottle of beer I had last night . . . this morning . . . whenever . . . is slowly spreading its way across the beige carpet. The dog is lapping at it until he notices I'm awake.

"Tastes like old piss, doesn't it?" I ask and Cricket runs over and licks my face before he does his 'get me out in the yard fast' dance. The Cocker Spaniel nuzzles at my crotch and I jump. "Too right, mate. I've got to go, too."

May is standing in the doorway watching me as I struggle to get up. I didn't drink enough to get pissed, but I'm a little stiff from sleeping in the corner of a room on the hard floor.

"Is Mommy home yet?" she asks as she clutches on to her teddy. She's got on her pyjamas yet and her hair is all tousled. I can also tell she's been crying.

"No, luv, Mommy isn't home yet. Soon. She'll be home soon. Can you let Cricket outside before he wets the floor? I'll be down in a minute and we can make some breakfast," I say and she nods her head and calls for her dog. He obediently follows her anywhere.

I hate not being able to tell her more. No matter what I thought in the middle of the night, I do hope her mother is alive. But what can I do? Nothing but wait.

I go to clean up all the notes again and put them back in their box. I have to take care of my daughter and not wallow in self pity. I open one last note. A series of them caught my eye before and I can't help but go back to them. All so close in time. That must be when it all started. I take one last look and cram them all back into the box and shut the lid, placing the box on the bed.

My little girl needs me. I can't look at these all day.

************

August 7, 2003

 

Damn it. I don't need this today. Not again. I pick up the little scrap of paper off my desk and fold it into a paper airplane myself with the intention of sending it sailing toward the garbage can. I'm about to launch it to join the rest of the trash when I stop. Just like I did with the last three or four.

I hold it in my fingers, playing with its wings, bending them so it would never fly anyway. Just like this whole idea. It should never fly. And I should never fly with Harm again, either.

'Come fly with me.'

What is that supposed to mean anyway? The subtext behind those few words is so powerful. Come run away with me for a day and I'll take your heart flying. Of course, after that I'll crush it and send it falling to earth.

I put the note to the side and try to get back to work. Thankfully, Bud is co-counsel on this case and not Harm. We haven't had to work together again since, through some miracle, we got Littleton acquitted. We are both good at what we do, but everything was working against that poor man, including his lawyers. Or maybe we were just working against each other.

The tension between us is so heavy right now I'm nearly drowning in it. Neither of us knows what to say to the other. He sends me notes and I ignore them. I picture him standing out there by his plane, waiting for me for hours. I can see Harm so clearly as he finally gives up when the sun has set and he knows there's no hope.

And then on Monday, he never says a word. Just looks at me with unexpressive eyes and we go about our business.

This has to come to end one way or another soon. I can't live under this forever. Neither can he. I just don't know what the solution is.

I close my eyes and my senses are flooded with that last kiss. It wasn't the first time we kissed, but the first time he kissed me. Mic and I share kisses all the time. We make love all afternoon on the weekends. We do everything. But I keep going back to that one singular kiss.

I didn't want to stop. Oh, God, where would it have gone if it were only up to me? I'm the one who's married. I'm the one who should have pulled away and run like hell. Instead, he pushed me away and I fled, scared of the conversation that was coming soon. I didn't want him to apologize for kissing me. I wasn't sorry.

Then why am I avoiding him? He's not trying to avoid me. Does he want it to go further? He has to because I can't take one more no.

I pick up the note again and look at it. Then I look at the ring on my finger. What in the hell am I doing?

****************

Mac moves around the break room without looking at me. She pours herself a cup of coffee, her hand shaking so much that she nearly spills it. Then she gets her lunch out of the refrigerator and can't get the lid off.

"Damn it!" she exclaims, tossing the plastic container across the counter.

"Do you need help?" I ask from across the room. I'm leaning against the far counter, watching her. That seems to be the problem. It's been months since we went flying together, but we still are walking on eggshells around each other. I'm sure she got my latest note but she won't say anything about it. Not here. Not ever, actually.

She didn't show up the last few times I asked her to come with me. I'm sure she had a good reason, but still the unsettling realization that perhaps she just didn't want to see me was always there. I never said anything about it on Monday. What could I say?

I did the right thing yet at the same time everything I did was all so wrong. I stopped something that I thought was wrong and in doing so, I lost her. If I would have known the consequences, I would have just let it go on. I would have lost her either way.

Mac grabs the container and is about to hand it to me when Bud walks through the door. "Oh, good! I can't seem to get this lid off. Can you do it, Bud?"

"Sure, ma'am," Bud says, looking at me, puzzled. He's wondering why she didn't ask me. Too bad I have no answer to give him. "There you go."

"Thanks, Bud. You're a life saver," Mac says, hurrying out of the break room without even heating her meal up. I'm not sure she even had a fork with her.

"What's wrong with Col. MacKenzie, sir?" Bud asks. One thing I was always thankful for is that Mac kept her maiden name. I can't imagine how many times she would have had to explain why she's called Mac if her last name was Brumby.

"Well, Bud, I'm not sure what wrong with Col. MacKenzie. Maybe she's having problems on the homefront," I say, dismissing it all. I certainly don't want to discuss it with Bud. I don't want to discuss it with anyone.

"So, sir, are you taking your Stearman up anytime soon? It's been a long time since I went with and if you ever need someone to go with you, I'd love to," Bud says.

He pulls his neatly arranged lunch out of the refrigerator. It is all packed in some big Tupperware thing and he goes about microwaving the parts that need to be heated, reading the little post-it note instructions carefully before setting the timer. He even has a thermos of what is most likely juice. Or chocolate milk. Is this what married life is like? Someone to make your lunch. Someone to have your babies. Someone to get away from for a day by flying with your bachelor buddy.

I'm not sure. . . I don't know if I could do it. Not like Bud can. I just don't think I can.

"I'll keep that in mind, Bud. I just haven't felt like flying lately," I lie, leaving Bud behind in the kitchen with his all too perfect meal.

********************

"Don't answer it, Luv," Mic says when the phone starts ringing again. Whoever it is, they are certainly persistent.

"Oh, Mic . . . I have to. It might be about that hearing that was delayed until Tuesday . . ."

"You didn't have to answer it the last three times it rang," he says, wrapping his arms around me and hugging me tight. I free myself from his embrace and roll toward the phone. "Besides, you aren't supposed to get up right away. The doctor said so."

"To hell with the doctors, Mic. None of it's going to work," I say, grabbing the handset to the cordless phone.

"Hello," I say, getting it right before it goes to the answering machine. They haven't left a message yet.

"Mac, it's Harm," he says and I know this isn't about any hearing. He sounds . . . determined and I know we are going to resolve all of this here and now.

"Yes, is there a problem?" I ask, getting out of bed and dragging on my bathrobe. I feel a stickiness between my thighs and I sigh. Oh, hell. It doesn't matter anyway. There will be no baby this month just like there wasn't one last month.

"Who is it?" Mic asks. I turn to look at him and he pats my side of the bed, wanting me back there, wrapped up in the warm sheets. Wrapped up in him.

"It's uh . . . about the hearing. I'll be right back, okay? I have to get something out of my briefcase," I say and a disappointed look crosses his face.

I never expected that Harm would go as far as calling me at home about this. What in the hell does he want from me?

Probably the same thing I want from him.

"What hearing?" Harm asks. I don't say anything until I'm all the way down the stairs and in the kitchen. I don't turn on any of the lights. I just stare out of the window over the sink at the moon shadows dancing across the backyard.

"What did you want me to say? That is was you on the phone?" I ask, careful not to say his name in case Mic followed me down here. He's probably fast asleep by now, but I just don't want to take any chances. Or any more than I already am.

"Why lie? We haven't done anything wrong," he says, his voice almost flat and expressionless. Actually, he sounds more mad than anything. I don't know why he would sound that way if we haven't done anything wrong like he says.

"Have you been drinking?" I ask, wanting to get to the bottom of why he's calling me at home this late at night.

"No. Why?" he asks and I don't answer right away. I don't think he's at home. I hear indistinguishable street sounds in the background. Maybe a horn honking. Couples chattering. Maybe he's at a pay phone somewhere, calling me. Outside a bar in D.C. He just drank a few beers and it gave him the courage to call. Courage for him to beg me to come with him.

Oh, Mac, don't turn this into something it isn't. I sigh and give up staring out the window, leaning on the counter instead. I watch the second hand on the kitchen clock tick away, but I already knew how much time had passed since he asked why. Exactly 67 seconds. A minute and seven seconds is a long time when you are hanging on the other side of a silent phone call.

"You just sounded strange. That's all," I say, clearing my throat. I walk to the French doors and lean my head against the panes.

"Come away with me, Sarah. Come fly with me."

I shut my eyes and the warm glass pane under my forehead gets warmer than even the August air could make them. Then everything in the room gets warm around me. I know what he's asking. It isn't just a little joyride in his plane and then we part ways at the end.

For the first time ever, I lose track of time. Something Harmon Rabb has never done to me before. Oh, God. I could just give up on ever counting the minutes again if he just says my name and asks me again.

"Please, Mac . . . the whole weekend. We'll come home on Monday. Come with me," he says, sounding so very desperate. Needy. He needs me. After all this time, he needs me. And all that time doesn't matter anymore.

"Yes," I whisper into the receiver. The sound of my voice is so foreign to me. I can hardly believe I just answered. I don't need to say anything else. He hangs up on the other end right before I hit the off button on my phone.

I turn around and slide down the door, ending up on the cool tile just staring at the phone. I feel the door wobble behind me as I rock back and forth, trying to think. What have I done?

Even though we've done nothing yet, our fate has been sealed.

**************

August 8, 2003

She walks towards me, her feet leaving behind evidence of what we are about to do in wet prints against the deep green of the summer grass. The morning dew hasn't even lifted and yet, here she is. Early even. My heart is beating so hard against my rib cage that everyone in a five mile radius must be able to hear it.

Mac has on her uniform with her usual overnight bag thrown over her shoulder. It must have been the only way she could sneak away for the weekend. I watched her slip her cover on her head before she got out of the car. Nothing is out of place, yet so much is out of place. She stands before me, keeping a five foot space between us. I want to close the gap, but I'll let her set the pace. For now, it is all up to her.

"Is there somewhere I can change? I had to . . . say I was called out on an investigation. That I wouldn't be back until Monday evening," she says, her voice soft and low. It's as if she believes only whispering the words will cover the fact that it was a lie. The first of many to come.

"Over there. Go inside the hangar and you'll find a bathroom," I say, pointing in the direction of one of the buildings at the airfield. I watch as she silently goes off in that direction until she's out of sight. Then I try to concentrate on preparing the plane for flight. My eyes keep drifting to the hangar, waiting for her. Wanting her.

Jesus, Rabb. Pull your shit together or we'll never make it there. I check over all the hoses again, just to have something to do. I run my hands across the surfaces of my plane and I notice my hands are shaking. I feel as nervous as someone going up on their first solo flight, except this time, I'm not going anywhere solo.

Mac comes up behind me and clears her throat, startling me. I turn to face her and take the bag from her shoulder but I can't stand to go without holding her for another second. Mac's bag hits the ground with a thud as I pull her to me. Her body is drawn to mine. Her arms go up and around my neck. Her hands pull my head down for a kiss.

And then we are lost in each other. Her tongue parts my lips and I can't even think as it brushes across my own. The only thought that makes it out of the muddle in my mind is that I need more. I need more quickly.

I untuck her shirt from her jeans and my hands go up and across her back, feeling her smooth skin under my fingertips. Her fingers weave through my short hair, pulling me closer. I want to be closer. So much more closer.

Mac is the one who pulls away, but I don't move my hands yet. I want to feel her warmth. Take all her clothes off and touch her everywhere.

"Where are we going?" she asks, her voice heavy with desire. She and I both try to catch our breath and her hands drop down from my head. She shoves her fingertips into the pockets of my jeans and pulls my hips in her direction.

"Cape May, New Jersey. Their annual fly-in is this weekend. A lot of people. No one will notice us," I say, still breathless and struggling to get the words out. We both sway back in forth, as close as we can be right here and now.

"I don't think I can make it that far," she says, resting her head against my chest.

I don't think I can, either, but we have to. We can't do it here up against my plane. "We've made it this far. We can make it another few hours."

****************

Breathe, Sarah MacKenzie. Just remember to keep breathing.

I have to keep reminding myself or else I know I'll forget and where we are going and what we are doing once we get there won't matter.

Breathe. And again. Slowly. Deeply. Breathe.

The air flows by me, tickling my already over-sensitive skin and I swear I can still feel his hands touching my flesh. Moving across my back. I could feel the need in that touch and in that kiss and it scares me. Scares me even more when I realize I need him just as much.

Scares me so much I find that I've forgotten to breathe again. Needing someone this much terrifies the hell out of me. I've never felt this much want and desire bubbling through my soul and I'm not sure I know how to deal with it. Mic . . . I love him. I'm sure I do. But need and want? Not like this. Never like this.

"We're almost there," Harm says, his voice breaking the silence for the first time since we got in the air. I try to say something back, but find I have no voice. "Are you okay? Mac?"

I have to clear my throat before I can answer. "Yes, I'm okay."

"We'll be landing in a few minutes," he says and I take in another breath of fresh air. I swear I can taste the sky and heaven way up here. It tastes just like Harm. He and the sky are one. Free as the wind . . . and he's never going to change. Not even for me.

I turn my face toward the mid-morning sun and close my eyes against its warmth. Rays are getting past the shade of the wing and its intensity pulls me back to some sort of reality. No, I'll never have him for long. He only belongs to the sky. Not to me. And just as much as he can't be mine, I can't be his.

I belong to someone else.

"Mac?"

"Hmm?" I respond, opening my eyes to discover quite a sight before me. Several other airplanes dot the crisp, blue sky and when Harm banks the plane to head toward the airstrip, I can see where the land meets the ocean. The summer sun shines off the water as it stretches out forever before us.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" he asks and before I can respond, he's contacting the controller about where we should land.

It certainly is beautiful. And for right now, I don't need forever with him. This will be enough. Whatever I can get will be enough, no matter how much it scares me.

I just have to remember to keep breathing.

*******************

Mac seems more nervous now than when we left. Maybe it's all the people here at the small municipal airport. There's a chance I might know someone here, but I have no intention of staying here long enough to find out.

Mac shifts her bag from one shoulder to the other anxiously as I talk to someone about the arrangements for the plane. I'm afraid that if I look away for too long, she'll be gone. She has the most to lose in what we are doing. I wouldn't blame her for backing out now.

God, please don't let her back out now.

She turns to watch some of the other planes here for the weekend and when I place my hand on her shoulder, I can feel tension throughout her body.

"We don't have to," I say, my voice barely audible over an incoming stunt plane. She rounds her shoulders off, slumping under my touch. I feel her exhale a deep breath before she turns to me.

"Don't back out on me now, Harm. Not after everything else," she says, her brown eyes more intense than I've ever seen them. She reaches for my hand, holding it tight. "I would never forgive you if you changed your mind now."

"I thought you were changing your mind. I thought . . ."

"Stop thinking," she says. I already thought we did that. We must have to be doing what we are doing. "Where are we going? It better be close."

"They said they'd have a taxi waiting to take us to where we are staying," I answer, looking around. Indeed, the car is waiting over by the main hangar and I take her bag from her and we walk to it hand in hand.

"Rabb?" the driver asks and I nod, my voice suddenly stuck in my throat. "My name is Edwin. You're going to the Angel of the Sea, right?"

I manage to mutter a yes and open the door for Mac to get in.

"Angel of the Sea? It sounds beautiful" Mac says as the driver gets behind the wheel and smiles in the rear view mirror.

"It is beautiful, I'm sure you'll love it, Mrs. Rabb," he says and I feel Mac cringe at the mistake. It was just that. An honest mistake. She has on a wedding ring. She pulls her hand out of mine and twists the ring around and I look away. "Angel of the Sea is a beautiful Victorian bed and breakfast. I see your husband is surprising you with a weekend getaway?"

"Yes," she answers softly, not correcting him. I look down again to see that she has her hands folded neatly on her lap. "Yes, he is."

"He picked a good spot. It's a great place. Quite a history behind it. You'll see. It was split in half once to move it, but they were never able to get the two halves back together," he says, as he navigates his way through the coastal town.

"Very interesting," Mac says. She sounds like she's not even listening at this point. Maybe all she can hear is my heart beating wildly because that's all I can hear. We don't say anything to each other for a long time. Occasionally, we steal a passing glance, but that's it. Nothing needs to be said at this point as long as this is where she wants to be.

We near the beach and the driver points out a large Victorian structure facing the ocean. "That's where you'll be staying. And there's plenty of things to do in town now. That is, if you'll be leaving your room," he says with a chuckle. Mac and I both tense up again and look at each other.

"I'm sure we'll get out at least once. Maybe catch the sunrise on the beach," she answers, all the while shaking her head 'no.' I smile at her as I try to slow my racing heart down to a somewhat normal rhythm.

By sunrise, everything will have changed between us. We won't just be friends anymore but so many more things. Not all of them good. As he pulls into the drive, she reaches out and reassuringly pats my hand once as she takes a deep breath.

No matter what changes, we're going to be fine. I hope.

****************

There's no way we can make it to the bed. The room is beautiful and has a balcony with a view of the ocean . . . but who the hell cares at this point. The door was barely closed behind us before he grabbed me and pulled me into his arms, his mouth down upon mine before I could even say a word.

His mouth moves all over me, desperate and demanding. As if he can't live without me. As if he's drowning and I'm his air . . . and I need him just as badly. The slow burn that's been simmering in my body since I showed up at the airport is now boiling over and I need him now.

Harm makes a low, lusty growl in his throat as I draw my tongue up his jaw line, toward his earlobe. He has to stand splay legged and I have to stretch in order to make up for our height difference but I don't care. However I can get to him is fine with me.

He pulls my shirt out of the waist of my jeans and I give up on his ear when he yanks it over my head. My bra follows quickly and he steps back for a second to savor what's before him. I can tell by the glow in his eyes that he likes what he sees. He falls to his knees and takes a nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it in slow adoration and I moan in spite of myself when I think about that tongue on other places. He moves from one breast to the other, lavishing his attention equally on both.

"Stand up," I demand and he obeys like a good little sailor. I tug at his shirt and he discards it and I touch the dog tags resting against his chest. Probably wears them when he flies in case . . . I don't even want to think about it.

This time, when my hands move to the fly of his jeans, he doesn't push me away. Instead, he kicks off his shoes and gets out of his socks while my hand traces down the front of his jeans, feeling him harden more under my touch. If I thought I couldn't breathe before now I've become desperate, each breath nearly a gulp for air.

No, he doesn't push me away at all as I let each button on his fly pop so slowly that it's painful for both of us. He's not changing his mind this time. I won't let him. I slide his jeans down over his hips, carefully taking his boxer shorts with. Now it's my turn to step back and admire him. The ever cocky Harmon Rabb seems to shy away from me looking at him for the first time and it's almost enough to make me laugh . . . not him, but his reaction. To make him more at ease, I quickly get out of my remaining clothes so we can both stand naked before the other.

Harm licks his bottom lip and his eyes can't decide where to go. I decide for him by stepping close, my body brushing against his. I can feel his erection press insistently against my flesh and I want to feel it inside of me. No, need to feel it.

He spins me around in his arms and we start to walk slowly toward the bed, with me going backwards. When did his room get so big? We aren't going to make it. I need him now. He must feel it, too, because we both fall to our knees onto the hard wood floor, with me wrapped in his embrace. Harm lowers me onto my back and I sigh at the wonderful feeling of his weight on top of me with his tags brushing against my chest. Lately, sex in my life has become just that. Sex. A chore in order to have a baby. This is so different. This is lust and passion and desire. Everything I knew it would be with Harm. I feel his erection against my wet folds and I move my hips up to increase the stimulation.

Even with the limited foreplay, I'm so aroused that I don't need anything besides him inside of me. We can play later. I need this now.

He stops moving above me and the expression on his face grows so serious. "You're sure?" he asks and I want to hit him. I'm naked and sprawled out underneath him and he has to ask if I'm sure? That's so Rabb.

I buck my hips up against him, encouraging him to fill me. I'll beg if that's what it takes at this point. Luckily, I don't have to. He nudges into me slowly and I feel myself opening up to take him in as I wrap my legs around his waist. I have to go back to my breathing lessons when I feel him begin to move inside of me. He's propped up over me and our eyes are locked, neither of us looking away. I'm afraid that if I do, this will all be over. It's wrong, but it's what I want. What I've always wanted.

He moves slowly at first and a smile crosses his face and I answer it with one of my own. Everything built up between is us is toppling down right now and I place a hand on his cheek and fight the sudden urge I have to cry. I'm sure there will be enough tears later. I'm not going to start now.

I can feel his heartbeat through me as he thrusts in faster and harder. Slipping my hand between us, I touch myself, heightening the arousal. I want to come with him in me and to have him come we me wrapped around him. God knows I have nothing to worry about if he does.

"Mac, oh God . . ." he moans against my mouth as he leans closer to me. A layer o  
September 13, 2010

"Go fish, Daddy!" May says, looking at her cards with glee as she squirms around in her seat. I draw another card and make my first match.

"I'll beat you yet," I say and she just smiles and shakes her head no as she decides what to ask for next.

It's past her bedtime, but neither of us feels like sleeping. The searchers are still trying to get to the wreckage they spotted from the air but aren't having much luck. They said they'd have another go at it in the morning, but so far, they haven't been able to detect any movement in the area. If they're dead, there's not much that can be done except sit and wait this out. If they aren't dead . . .

I don't even know what to think about that. I'm not even sure which is the worst case scenario right now.

"Do I have to go to school tomorrow?" May asks. I held her out today already and I'm not sure I want her going tomorrow. I think I would go mad around this house alone, just waiting for the phone to ring.

"No, luv. You can stay home with me," I say and she gets very quiet. "What's the matter?"

"When Emily Myer's mommy died, she got to stay home a lot," she says, her voice soft and sad.

"Your mum isn't dead, May," I say. We both put our cards down and I take her hands in mine. She has long, graceful fingers just like Sarah and I remember how when she was a baby, they would hook so tightly around mine. Now it's hard to get her to hold my hand when we cross the street and I know it will only get worse.

"I know she isn't dead. But why did she go away?" my daughter asks, looking for a good answer. I wish I had one to give her. I'm not even sure why. "Was mommy mad at us?"

Her face twists up slightly as she tries to figure out what she might have done to her mum that would make her leave us like this.

"May, you didn't do anything. No matter what happens between me and your mum, you've never done anything," I say and a tear splashes down her cheek. "Sometimes grown-ups just have problems, but even so, we will never love you any less. Do you understand me, luv?"

She nods her head and I end up on knees before her pulling her into a hug. She'll never understand all of this. I barely understand it myself. If Sarah was so unhappy, she should have left. She should have left me a long time ago and gone on with her life with him. I don't know what would have stopped her.

I rock May in my arms and she goes as limp as a ragdoll as she begins to cry. I want to cry, too.

All those notes stopped for so long, but then they started again. What made her go back? Did I do something that made her go back to him or was it just inevitable? There was that rocky period we had, but I thought . . . I didn't think there was a third party involved in any of that. I thought all her decisions were based on what she wanted, not on what anyone else might have wanted.

"Shh, May. It's going to be all right. Mum will be home soon and everything will be okay," I lie, while I still rock her. "It will be okay."

*********************

June 24, 2006

I follow Mic into our bedroom with May hitched up on my hip. She's getting squirmy but I don't have anywhere to set her down and I can't follow her to make sure she doesn't get into anything.

"I don't get it, Mic. I thought we were just going there to visit your sister and your aunt. You never said anything about finding a job before," I say, my voice filled with anger. May senses this and begins crying. I try to hush her but she's stressed out enough as it is from us packing up most of her belongings.

Mic finally stops moving and turns to me. "Sarah, I can't find a job here. It's been six months since I lost the last one and although I love being a full time daddy to May, I don't think I can do that forever."

"What about my job? I can't exactly just up and leave it," I say. He takes May out of my arms and she quiets down immediately.

"Why not? You have before. I miss my home, Sarah. I miss my family. When you move with us, you'll still be with your family but I've been here over six years now and I miss home," Mic says. May wraps her arms around his neck and they both stare at me.

I sit on the edge of the bed and try hard not to cry. I want to because I just can't even believe this is happening. I took all my leave time to go to Australia and now he wants to stay there forever.

"Mic, please. Can we discuss this later?" I ask, wanting desperately not to put May in the middle of this. I don't want to fight in front of her. No matter how young she is, she deserves better than that.

"There's nothing to discuss, Sarah. I don't know what to do anymore," he says, his eyes pleading with me. I know his unemployment has been hard on him, but we've gotten by with just my paycheck for a while now.

"This doesn't have to do with some stupid male pride about a man taking care of his family, does it?" I ask softly. He just lets out a soft sigh. May snuggles up closer to him and he rocks her.

"I'd like to be able to care of both of you, Sarah. My mum worked hard her whole life and I don't want that to happen to you," Mic says, his eyes meeting mine. "I want better for you."

"But, Mic . . . I'm not your mother. I love my job. It's all I've ever wanted to do and I'm not sure I can leave it," I say. May starts to twist her soft hair around her finger and she watches me now, too. They both watch me and I look away.

"Are you sure it's just your job you can't leave, Sarah? Or is there something else?" Mic asks and I meet his eyes again.

"What in the hell do you mean by that?" I ask, my voice rising a little higher than it should.

"I only mean what else is there here that you'll stay for besides your job? It's just a job, Sarah. I left mine for you when we got married," Mic says. He comes toward me and puts May in my arms. She immediately begins fussing again, her face turning red and in frustration. It's only a matter of time before the tears start flowing.

"I-I just don't want to give up everything I worked so hard for, Mic. I just don't."

He watches me as I try to soothe my daughter but it isn't working. Normally, he'd pluck her out of my arms about now and get her to stop fussing, but he doesn't do that this time. He's trying to show me I can't do it without him and I'm going to have to follow him to wherever he goes.

"We'll talk about this later," he says, brushing past me and out the door. I sit down on the bed with May on my lap and we both cry.

****************

June 24, 2006

"Darling! How was your flight?" Mom asks as she gives me a quick hug. She's smiling even though I can tell her tough exterior is faltering. She looks exhausted even under the perfect makeup and nice clothes. I haven't seen her in . . . over two years? Could that be possible? We talk on the phone often, but not often enough.

"It was long and uneventful," I say of the commercial flight I took out here.

"Come inside. Let me fix you a drink . . . or a sandwich. You must be hungry," she says as she stares out over the ocean.

"I'm fine, Mom. I don't need anything," I say, knowing that I'm going to get something anyway. She's too nervous right now and I know my mother. She has to be doing something. I remember long ago, when Dad was first missing, she was constantly doing something. Anything to take her mind off of it. Eventually, that's how she met Frank and got the gallery started. For a long time I felt sorry for my father. Eventually, I learned I didn't have to.

"Come on. I could use an iced tea. My treat," she says, taking my hand in hers like I'm still a little boy.

I follow her into the house and to the kitchen where she promptly goes about pouring us two glasses of tea. I watch as she slices a lemon to put into the glasses, her hands moving quickly. There's a slight tremor in them I never noticed before.

Frank called me last night and told me the news. I can't believe she hid it for as long as he said she did. I can't believe she couldn't tell me.

Her hands still for a moment before she sets the knife down. Finally, she looks at me and a lot of her strong resolve vanishes as she fights back the tears. I know my mother. She's probably been strong all this time for Frank. For herself. For anyone who might be watching her.

"Please, Mom. Tell me. I want to know," I say and the tears begin to flow down her cheeks.

"Ovarian cancer, Harm."

"Mom . . . I-I . . . oh, Mom."

I don't know what to say. She doesn't say anything, either. I just hold her in my arms and try hard not to cry. The words 'be strong for mommy' echo through my mind from long ago. So many people said it and I never got over it.

She pulls back from me and pats at the damp spot she left on my shirt. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to . . . go change your shirt and I'll wash this one . . ."

"Mom, stop. It's okay. Tell me what the plan is. How are they treating this?" I ask and she keeps her fingers on my shirt, rubbing over that one spot.

"Surgery and chemotherapy. I just haven't scheduled it yet."

"Why not?" I ask, my voice just a little gruff and angry with her.

"I need to think, Harm. I just found out a few days ago. . ."

"And you didn't call me?" Anger still fills my voice and she looks away from me. I'm not sure what I'm more angry at. The fact that she didn't tell me or that I might lose my mom. Some selfish part of me takes over and I'm not ready for it. Dad was unexpected. I was too young and just . . . but this . . . I never even imagined this.

"I'm sorry. I had to deal with this, Harm. I have to accept it, too." She stops messing with my clothes and puts her hand on my cheek.

"That doesn't mean you have to give up."

"Not much chance I'll ever have grandchildren," she says. I know she's not saying it to make me feel guilty but more of a statement of fact. Of something she has to accept. That we all do at this point.

"Robin and I broke it off about two months ago," I say, looking down at the counter top. It lasted a long time. A lot longer than I've ever gone out with anyone. "We've seen each other a few times since then, but it just wasn't working."

Robin and my mother never met. Our schedules never allowed us to fly out here together and my mother hasn't been to DC in years. Mom watches me carefully before she goes on.

"So, how is Mac doing? And how is the baby? She can't possibly be a baby anymore, can she? She's got to be a toddler," my mother says, focusing on her tea and avoiding my eyes.

"How did you know?" I ask, my voice sounding strange and distant. I never told her about Mac having May. In all these years, I've just avoided it. I didn't want to hear one more time that I let that one get away. "I never told you that Mac had a baby."

"Mac sent a birth announcement and a photograph when her baby was born. I sent her a gift. I don't really think she meant anything by it, though it would certainly be nice if she was my grandchild. It would have been nice to have had a little girl to go shopping with," Mom says and I notice that she said that in the past tense. She looks up at me and gives me a quick smile.

"I'm sorry," I say.

"No need to be sorry," she says, resting her hand on my arm. "What will be, will be, right? You have lived your life like you've wanted to live it and if that makes you happy, then I'm happy. That's all a mother can hope for. That her children are happy and healthy."

I watch her stand up and pour out the remainder of her tea. I wonder if she knows? If anyone would know me well enough to know that this might not be the life I've wanted, it would be Mom. I'm sure she'll never say a thing.

"I have to go to the gallery and close up for the evening," she says and I know she's just trying to forget about everything. I wish I could deny it all, too. It would be so much easier. "Frank said he's meet me there later."

"Do you want me to come with you?" I ask as she finishes cleaning up.

"I'll just be gone for a couple of hours. Why don't you relax for a while, darling, and then come meet me there. We'll go get dinner then. You can take one of Frank's cars, just don't put a ding in it," Mom says as if she's still talking to a teenager going out on their first date. She looks up at me and laughs. "Sorry. They trust you with planes, don't they? I guess you can be trusted with some old Chrysler something or other."

"I'll do my best," I say and she comes back over and hugs me.

"It's nice to see you again even if the circumstances are lousy," she says, looking up at me.

"It will all work out, Mom. It has to," I say even though this time, I'm not so sure.

********************

June 27, 2006

"You must admit it's beautiful here, Sarah," Mic says. He convinced me to leave May with his sister, Maggie, so he could take me on a drive. He's still trying to sell me on moving to Australia.

"It always has been, Mic, but that's not the issue," I say, staring out my window at the wrong side of the road. I'll never get used to this.

"What is, luv?" he asks and I recognize where I am well enough to know we're heading back. He said we would be back before May's bedtime. He hardly ever misses her bedtime.

"What is the issue? How about the fact that I have a career in the States. A good one I've worked hard at. I just can't give it up that easily."

"I gave up everything for you once."

"I didn't ask you to."

"Are we back to that?"

"I guess maybe we are."

We sit in silence as he turns down the road his sister lives on. There's more. I'm just afraid to admit to the 'more' right now.

"Are there any other reasons, Sarah?" he asks, his voice sounding hurt from my last comments. I can't tell him all the other reasons because I haven't even figured them out for myself. Besides that, there are some I just can't share with him. Not now. Not ever.

"Yeah, like the fact that I can't say 'fair dinkum' and have it sound right."

"Have I ever said that?"

"Your sister did," I tell him.

"You're worried because you can't speak Strine? And you think it was easy for me when I got to DC? I had to figure out what Beltway Bandits were. And the word cheesy? It still amazes me when people use it all these years later," Mic says, sounding exasperated.

"And there's the whole thing with the seasons being backwards . . ."

"Who says yours aren't backwards?"

"Mic, I just need some time to think about it, okay?" I ask, wanting to end this. I don't really even want to think about it. I want him to accept that my answer is no and move on from there.

We pull up to the house and Maggie is standing on the drive, watching May chase something. She waves to us and May scurries over to the car, happy to see us. We get out of the car and Maggie approaches me while Mic grabs his daughter.

"How's my girl!" Mic says, picking her up and spinning her in the air.

"Sarah, someone called for you while you were gone. Someone you work with," Maggie says. I can tell she's trying to think of the name and I prod her on.

"Was it someone named Rabb?" I ask quietly but Mic overhears me.

"That's right. He said his name was Harmon Rabb and that it was urgent and that you should call at any time," Maggie says, smiling that she remembered after all.

"What's he want? You're on vacation, luv," Mic says, hitching May up on his hip and approaching us.

"I have to call, Mic. There might be an emergency," I say, walking towards the house.

"He gave me the number where he can be reached. I left it by the telephone," Maggie calls after me. I look at my watch and try figure out the time difference between here and DC. It's only when I find the message that I realize Harm isn't at home. I don't know where this area code is.

I pick up the phone and charge the call to my calling card, hoping everything is okay. He's never called me before while I was on vacation.

An exhausted sounding Harm answers the phone on the second ring.

"Harm, it's Mac. Is everything okay?" I ask and he doesn't say anything for a moment.

"Um, I'm not really sure. I, um, I need . . . when can you come home?" he asks and my heart skips a beat. I put my hand over my chest and take a deep breath as I attempt to figure out what he's getting at.

"I'm on leave on the other side of the world here, Harm. I can't just fly home tomorrow," I say, leaning against the wall with the phone still pressed to my ear.

"It's my mom, Mac. She's . . . she's got cancer. I need some time with her."

The gasp I make registers my shock and I don't really know what to say. I lost my mother years ago when she got on that bus out of town. Chances are, I wouldn't even know if she died.

"Harm, I'm so sorry. I'll try to get back by next week. Will that be soon enough?" I ask. He doesn't seem to be too willing to share what is wrong with his mom. Then again, this is Harm I'm talking to. When has he ever shared?

"Yeah. I'll go back to DC tomorrow and finish up some things. Then when you get there . . . Mac, I'm sorry about this," he says.

The front door opens and Mic comes in with May still in his arms, her arms wrapped around his neck. I turn to look at him as he stands there watching me, his eyes imploring me for an explanation.

"No, that's okay. We'll talk more about it when I get back. Give your mother my love," I say, hanging up the phone.

"What was that about?" Mic asks.

"I have to go home sooner than I expected," I say, walking past him and toward the room we're staying in. He follows close behind and May must be able to sense another argument coming because she clutches onto his neck tighter.

"Why? What does he need from you that he can't do himself?" Mic asks. "Does he need you to come rescue him from something?"

"Mic, he just found out his mom has cancer and he wants some time," I say and that quiets him down for a second. Maybe.

"And you just found out you're moving to Australia and you need some time."

"Mic . . ."

"Sarah, I'm going to find a job."

"And I have a job. One I need to get back to."

"May is staying with me."

I stop everything I'm doing and turn to him.

"What?" I ask.

"May can stay here. I'm staying here and you don't have childcare for her at home, so she might as well stay with me. What are you worried about? That I won't ever bring her back?"

"No," I say. I know he'd never do anything so cruel to me. Never. It's just she provides leverage to get me back here.

"Good, Sarah, because I'd never do anything to hurt either of you," he says, giving May a kiss on the cheek. I put my hands out for her and she jumps into my arms.

"Will you be okay with just Daddy for a while, sweetheart?" I ask, brushing her soft hair out of her face. She looks to Mic and smiles.

"Yes," she says, nodding her head with glee.

"Oh, how nice. Happy to get rid of Mommy, huh?" I say and she gives me a hug. "I'll be back to get both of you before you know it . . ."

"Sarah . . ." Mic says and I turn away with my baby in my arms, not wanting to hear it again.

****************

July 2, 2006

"How are you feeling?"

"Like hell," Mom answers, her eyes fluttering open for the first time since she came out of surgery. She can't keep them open for very long but reaches out her hand for mine. "Where's Frank?"

"He'll be back in just a minute. He went to get a cup of coffee. We didn't expect to see you awake so soon," I say, taking her hand in mine.

"I was dreaming," she says, a little smile moving across her face.

"Was it a good dream?" Her fingers squeeze mine tightly as she continues to smile.

"Oh, yes. It was more of a memory, really. You were a baby . . . not a baby but a toddler . . . and it was that little house we had . . . you wouldn't even remember. I remember it was one of the times your father was home and you had just figured out how to open the front door . . ." she says, drifting in and out.

"What happened?"

"We couldn't find you. Your dad was doing something in the yard and I was in the kitchen and then you were gone. Naturally, since you just learned how to work that door, we assumed the worst . . . you were such a beautiful baby," she says, putting her shaky hand on my cheek.

"Where did you find me?" I ask, even though I've heard this story before. I want to hear her tell it again.

"You were afraid your dad was leaving so you fell asleep in the backseat of the car so you could be sure to give him a hug and a kiss before he left us again," she says, her voice so soft and quiet and I can barely hear her.

"I'm sorry I scared you," I say and her eyes shut all the way.

"I'm sorry you didn't have your father growing up," she says, as if it's her fault.

"I had Frank. I know I never say it enough but he was a great father. You have nothing to be sorry for and there's nothing you should regret. Mom, you need to get better . . ."

"I know Frank was a good father. But he wasn't your father. Kids . . . they should have their own father. I wish you could have known him better. All kids . . ."

"Mom, it's okay," I say and she smiles again. What is she getting at? How in the hell could she know something I only suspected?

"At home, there's an album of baby pictures. Of you. I want you to have them," she says, still clinging tightly to my fingers.

"Mom, those are yours . . . I don't want to . . ."

"Please, look at them."

"Okay," I assure her and she drifts back off to sleep.

***************

"Say bye to your mum," Mic says, stretching out his arms to take May from mine.

"Bye bye," she says, leaping from my arms into his.

"I'm going to miss you guys," I say, tucking a strand of brown hair behind her ear.

"Am I really included in that 'you guys'?" Mic asks. His eyes looks sad and angry and I can't believe he's still mad about me leaving. The Admiral even called me to make sure I could come back yet he's still pouting about the whole thing.

"Of course you are," I say, leaning in to give him a kiss.

"Then come back here," he says, wrapping our daughter protectively in his arms.

"Mic, I have to see how long . . . you know that. I try to make it back if I can. If not, I'll see you two back at home in a few weeks," I say and Mic doesn't say a word. "Won't I?"

"Of course you will? What do you think? I'm going to kidnap my child and hold her hostage here until you come back to me?" Mic says. I stare at him. He must be kidding. It's happened to children before but he wouldn't do that to me. He loves her even more than he loves me and he wouldn't hurt her any more than I would.

"No, I never thought that," I say, looking out the window at the plane waiting to take me back to the States. "I'm just going to miss both of you."

"And we'll miss you, luv."

The attendant at the gate calls the last boarding request and I give May another big hug before I walk away from them.

No, he'd never do anything to hurt her. That much I know.

***************

I pull out the photo albums and sit down with them on the couch. Usually, I love going through these, but then my mother is normally at my side telling stories about each picture. When I do finally visit, it's like a tradition though I'm sure she does it just to punish me. We would laugh, with my laughter due mostly to embarrassment, and it would bring such joy to her face.

Now she's sick and telling me to take these albums with me. I don't think I'm ready for that yet. I want to come back and look at the pictures with her again. I want to hear her stories a couple more times.

I flip to the earliest baby pictures of me and think about my mother's comment about grandchildren. I wonder if she would have albums filled with her grandchildren's baby pictures, too, if she had any.

Or any she knew about.

Fuck.

I've kept that thought so deep inside that it rarely makes it out anymore. I lean back and close my eyes, imagining if it things were different. They aren't and I'm not sure I want to change them. Mac got what she wanted. I got . . . who the hell knows. Freedom to do whatever it is I please? Freedom from fear of messing it all up. Now if I say anything or do anything, it would be an even bigger mess. That baby has a father and it's not me.

Robin didn't even want kids but she wanted marriage. I couldn't even commit to that much. I should have but I'm not sure we can repair it now. First Renee. Then Robin. Maybe they just aren't what I really want.

Maybe I can't have what I really want and what I want is a guarantee it won't all go wrong. I catch myself laughing.

Like this is all right. This is just as wrong as anything.

***************

July 7, 2006

"Thanks for coming back," Harm says, leaning against the door frame to my office. I look up at him and give him a quick smile before going back to reading the file in front of me.

"You owe me," I say, flipping through the papers. He left a pile of file folders on my desk before I got in and I was hoping to go over them with him before he goes back to San Diego. "How's your mom?"

"She's as well as can be expected. She had surgery before I left and she was starting chemotherapy today."

"I'm sorry," I say. He looks tired but then again, after flying half way around the world, so do I.

"Were Mic and May disappointed that they had to come home from their vacation early?" he asks. I shut my eyes I try to come up with a good answer.

"They're still in Australia."

"Is something wrong?" he asks, sounding concerned. He's been distant lately and it was just better if I didn't get involved and ask. I just couldn't help him through this thing with his ex-girlfriend. I don't know why it ended, but it certainly wasn't any of my business.

And this is none of his business.

"No, not at all. Mic still had plans and I didn't want to cut their vacation short," I say, trying to dismiss everything I really feel.

"Mac?"

"Hmm?"

"I hate to ask for more, especially after making you come back early from leave, but could you do me a favor?" he asks and waits for me to say something. I look up from what I'm doing once again to find that he's shut the door and is sitting in the chair across from me.

"What do you need?" I ask, leaning back in my chair and focusing my attention on him. He does look tired. Very tired.

"Can, I . . . um, can I have a recent picture of May? I-I think my mom . . . I'd like to show my mother a picture of her. The only one she has is from . . . the one you sent her . . ."

He fumbles through all the words and I find that I'm biting my bottom lip. He . . . knows? I've always suspected that he had to but this . . . this is something I never expected. Why doesn't he just say something? Ask something? Do something?

Because he's Harm and that isn't going to happen. I don't know why I expect different. Besides, what good would it do anyway? Mic is May's daddy and nothing will change that.

"Of course you can have a picture of her. I, uh, brought back a roll I took of her at her aunt's house. I'll get them developed and get one to you before you leave," I say, looking down at my lap. I can't look at him right now. I'm too afraid to.

"Thanks." He gets out of the chair and leaves me alone in my office. I find that I can only stare at the spot he just vacated.

*************

PART VIII

 

September 13, 2010

She is finally sleeping though certainly not peacefully. May tosses and turns on her bed and I stand at the doorway watching her, wishing I could make whatever it is that's disrupting her sleep go away. But I can't. It's here to stay.

I can't believe another night is upon us and there is no news. I'm too tired to call again and get another dismal report. I need to get some sleep, too, but I don't want to go to our bed. I just can't.

I pull May's door shut quietly and leave her to her restless sleep. I'll sleep on the couch. Or at least try to. I'm tired, but I'm not sure I can shut my eyes. Walking past our bedroom door, I fight the urge to turn in and look at those notes once again.

I fight and lose.

I can't help it. Those scraps of paper might be all I have left to figure this whole situation out. I keep trying to put them in some sort of order, but it doesn't make sense. Nothing I do with them makes sense.

I just want to know why and the answer doesn't lie in an old box. It lies with Sarah and she's not here to tell me.

Pulling the box down out of the closet, I hold it in my arms until I get to the living room. I run my fingers through them, hoping for answers.

Maybe there are no answers. Or at least none I'll be satisfied with.

Maybe it would be best if I just went to sleep and forgot this ever happened.

**********

July 8, 2006

I look up to see Mac walking across the grass towards the hangar where I've been working on my plane. It's my futile attempt to forget everything that's gone wrong but it's not working. Nothing is going to help right now. There's too much to forget.

Mac's dressed for the hot summer weather, her legs long, tan and bare. I have no idea what she's doing here. She's just here and my heart pounds a little too hard. I needed someone to talk to and now she's here. I'm just not certain what I'm going to say. Not sure of the right words anymore.

That's all I need right now. Someone to talk to. A friend. Mac and I are just friends. Nothing more.

She stops before me, on the other side of the wing, and slides an envelope across the smooth surface. "You wanted these?" she asks as I reach for it. Inside are recent pictures of her daughter, dressed for weather a little cooler than it is here. I can tell by the backdrop that these were taken in Australia before I called and asked her to come home.

Several of them are of Mic and May. Some are of all three of them together. I'm tempted to take the one of Mac and with her arms around her daughter, but I leave it in the envelope. "I only need one," I say, taking a picture of the little girl standing by herself. I set it down on the wing and hand her the rest of the pictures.

Mac looks at my choice as she wipes her sweaty bangs out of her eyes. Her expression doesn't give me a single clue about what she's thinking or feeling. She looks tired. That's all. We both look tired. "That's a good one. She looks like her daddy there for a change."

"Her daddy or her father?" I ask and Mac doesn't answer right away. She swallows hard and keeps her eyes on the photo. Her jaw clenches and unclenches but she doesn't say a word. I don't know what I expect. I don't know why I brought it up now when all I wanted was someone to talk to. "Sarah?"

"Don't."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry because it's too late to be sorry. So just don't." She takes a step back away from the plane and I wish I could reach out for her but there's too much in between us. "Don't start."

"I won't do anything. I won't say anything."

"That's par for the course, don't you think?" she asks with a scoff.

"What do you want me to say?" I move around the wing to the side she's on and she crosses her arms over her chest in some sort of defensive posture. "Why'd you bring the pictures out to me?"

"You asked for them . . . your mother," she answers, closing her eyes. "I don't know."

"You had to know I'd say something sooner or later. You had to know I always suspected . . ."

"Then why in the hell didn't you say something before now? How long were you going to wait? How long were you going to leave me wondering if you knew? If you even cared?" she asks sharply, cutting me off mid sentence. She opens her eyes and they are filled with fire. I imagine the anger there has been bubbling right below the surface for years and it wasn't going to take much on my part to rouse it.

"You were happy."

"I'm still happy."

"You don't look happy."

"And you're going to fix that?" she asks, still walking backwards away from me.

"I can't. I can't fix anything."

"No kidding," she says, scoffing again.

"Mac . . ."

"You think you can make it all better now? You've never been able to make it all better. One weekend. One weekend it was all better but then we had to come back here to the real world. God, Harm, don't you think I've wanted to go back? A million times over. Don't you think I wish this said something?" she asks, pulling out a scrap of paper from her pocket. She flips it at me and I catch it before it can flutter to the ground. I hold the paper between my fingers, remembering when I left it on her desk. I didn't know what to say then. I wanted to write something in it. I wanted to tell her to come away with me but I couldn't. I was too scared.

"I'm . . . I didn't mean to . . ."

"You never have," she says, turning around and leaving me alone with my plane.

*************

July 9, 2006

I can't fight the deep haze of sleep and depression. Can't even fight it long enough to figure out what that noise is. There's something . . . banging . . . but I don't care. I drift back to a deep sleep, happier there.

I don't know how long I've been asleep when the shrill sound of the phone finally startles me into consciousness. Running my hand over my body, I discover I'm still wearing the clothes I put on this morning to go to the airfield. I squint around the room. I'm in May's room. I vaguely remember coming in here to lie down a long time ago. The Winnie the Pooh clock on the wall lets me know it's 2 a.m. I slept most of the afternoon and all evening. Without May here . . . I'm just tired.

I miss her. And I miss Mic a little.

And right now, I miss Harm. I put my head back down on my arms with that thought. I haven't had that one in a while. Haven't felt this ache that starts in my heart and grows outward from there.

The phone stops ringing before the answering machine picks it up and starts again right away. I fumble for it quickly, hoping it's Mic. He was supposed to call me today. Overnight. I want to talk to May. I need to talk to my daughter even though she doesn't say much. I just need to hear her voice. I fell asleep on the floor of her room with the phone nearby. I miss her so much and I need to hear her.

"Mic?" I answer, only to be greeted by silence. I hope I didn't miss his call. Damn it, why didn't I answer? "Mic? Are you there?"

"Mac, open the front door."

I let out a sigh and I'm not sure whether it is one of relief or disappointment. I'm not quite sure what I want right now. I can't make my mind up. I never will be able to make up my damn mind.

"Harm . . ."

"Please open the door. I've been pounding forever and you're scaring me."

"I was asleep. I'm . . . hold on." I toss the phone onto May's bed and try to get my bearings. I stumble down the dark hallway, my body stiff from sleeping so long on the floor. I don't turn on any lights. This is all easier to face in the dark. Easier to hide in the dark.

I unbolt the locks on the front door and pull it open to find Harm standing there, leaning against the outside wall. He's got on the same clothes he had on this afternoon, too, but he doesn't look as wrinkled. He doesn't look like he's been sleeping on the floor or like he has even slept anywhere yet. He shoves his wireless phone into his pocket and then pulls something out of the other pocket.

"Here." He places the scrap of paper I left him with earlier into my hand. I unfold it and read the words. The same words as always. 'Come Fly With Me' is scrawled across the paper in his handwriting and as always it makes my heart skip a beat and sink all at the same time.

"Now?" I ask, puzzled. "Harm . . . it's the middle of the night."

"Right here, Mac. Come fly with me right here," he says, taking a step towards me. Before I can even think, I'm in his arms again and before I can even begin to regret it his mouth is down over mine. Oh, God. I need to say no but I can't. I can't and never have been able to. I do deserve whatever punishment I get for this because I can't stop. I've never been able to and I don't know the reasons why.

I don't even know if I lock the door behind us. Probably not. I barely remember hearing it slam shut. All I know is his arms are wrapped around me and we are moving slowly across the floor. Moving towards my room. I'm not sure I want to go there with this and with him but I don't stop us.

"Why?" I manage to get out between kisses. I look up into his eyes and I know why. He'll never say it but I know. I want him to say the words but he'll never change. Too stubborn. Too self-centered. I have no idea why I'm letting him in here. . .

"Because I need you. Mac, I need you . . ."

"Will you need me tomorrow?" I ask, looking away from those eyes. I'll believe any lie he tells me when I'm lost in his eyes. This way, I'll only half believe him. Only believe him until the sun comes up again.

"Yes." God, I want to believe him. I want everything. For him to mean it. For this to be his house. For May to be ours like she should be. For this to last forever.

"You lie," I say, pulling him towards my bed. Mic's bed. There will be no forgiveness for this. I don't think Mic even suspects that it ever happened but he might pardon the first time because it gave us May.

This is unforgivable.

This . . . is unavoidable.

My hands slide across the front of his shirt and down to his jeans. He moans as I drag my fingertips across his erection, already pressing hard against the denim under my touch.

"Harder," he says, licking his lips and I do what he asks. My whole hand pushes against him and his hips buck forwards. Just from my touch. We've barely even started and his breathing is erratic. Or maybe that's mine. They're blending as one now.

I sink to my knees and use the hand that was just pressing against him to release his erection from the confines of his button fly jeans. I pull them down to his knees and carefully ease his boxer shorts down. I take his cock into my mouth, wrapping my lips around his warm flesh. He gasps as my tongue darts out, flicking against his most sensitive spots. Harm digs his fingers into my shoulders and it hurts just a little. But it doesn't hurt enough to be my punishment for loving the wrong person too much.

"Mac . . . stop. Please. Just a second. I can't keep standing," he says and I release him from my mouth. He takes a step back and sits down hard on the bed, sighing as he kicks off his shoes and socks and the rest of the clothes I left gathered around his knees.

"You okay now?" I ask, moving over to him on my knees.

"Keep doing that and I'll be okay," he says, leaning back on his elbows, watching me. I edge my way in between his long legs and take the base of his cock in my hands before licking my way around it again. His fingernails dig into my comforter instead of me this time and I feel all his muscles tense up as I let my fingers explore across his body. I keep swirling my tongue over him until I taste a drop of something warm and salty. "Mac, do you . . . I want more than just this. I want you."

I ease back away from him and stare at his face. The room is dark except for the streetlight pouring in the window. I didn't even shut the blinds. I should but I'm afraid to step away for even a second. Afraid he'll leave me.

"I want more, too," I say, looking from him to the window and back again.

"Go ahead. I'm not going anywhere," he says as if he could tell what I was thinking. I lower myself until I'm sitting on my heels and I look down at the carpet. I don't know what has changed about him. Something has but I don't know what it is. Whatever it is, it's too late anyway. "Mac, you okay?"

"Yes," I say, standing up and pulling down the blinds. That leaves the room completely dark. Darker than I want it to be. I want to be able to see him. See us. I flip on the light in the adjoining bathroom and pull the door until it's only open a crack.

He's sitting up on the edge of the bed now, his shirt cast aside, and my heart skips a beat as I watch the sliver of light glisten off his dogtags. That's the only thing he has on and he looks good. Cocky son of a bitch has always known what he looks like. That's part of what makes him everything he is.

"Come here," he says, motioning for me to come his direction. I do and he pulls me closer with his hands wrapped around my hips. His fingers undo my shorts quickly, tugging them down along with my panties. I step out of them, feeling his warm fingers move up my thigh and brush lightly through my damp curls. I shed my shirt and toss it aside along with my bra.

Harm's eyes look over my body and he smiles. I'd forgotten he hasn't seen me like this since I had a baby. The baby that is most likely his. Soft fingers trace across the small reminders that spread across my abdomen and over my hips. Marks that let everyone know that I once carried a child in my body. I flinch away from his touch but he pulls me back.

"It's been a while," he whispers, his touch now moving up over my slightly softer abdomen to my breasts, fuller now than even the last time he saw them. "You're still just as beautiful."

I put my hands on his cheeks, brushing across the rough stubble, as my thumb glides across his lips. "So are you. But you already know that."

With that, he laughs and pulls me towards him. I tumble onto him, laughing too as the bed creaks under us. His erection is pressed between his body and my abdomen and I move against it, watching his eyes narrow under the sensation.

"You sure?" he asks and I kick him.

"If I wasn't sure, would I be lying on top of you completely naked?"

"I was just asking . . ."

"Stop."

I lean over and cover his mouth with mine. This kiss is even harder and more passionate than the earlier ones as our tongues dance around the other's mouth. God, he tastes good. Like something nearly forgotten but left hanging there on the edge of a memory you can't let go. He can't decide where to put his hands so I decide for him, guiding his fingers to the apex of my sex. I sit up and lean back, feeling his erection press against me but not letting him in just yet.

I slide against him and he bites his bottom lip, holding on with all his might to the last bit of control he's got. I smile at the thought of driving him to this, enjoying the tiny hold I've got over him. He's got the same hold on me so it doesn't really matter.

"Mac, is it okay? I mean, the last time . . . you know . . . protection and everything," he says and I nod 'yes' as I sink down upon him, taking him inside my body as slowly as I can bear.

"It's okay," I whisper without telling him why it's okay. He doesn't need to know everything.

He puts the one hand that isn't occupied with other things up for me to hold onto and our fingers entwine and lock. Both of us hold on to the other for dear life, his grip tightening the longer I stay still. I can't move right away. All I can do is look down at him and watch his eyes staring back at me. He thrusts up just a little, his eyes pleading for me to move. And I do.

I move over him, taking him in as far as I can before easing back up. And he thrusts up under me, meeting me somewhere in the middle. We both move so much that the headboard to the side of us hits the wall hard enough to knock the picture down that was hanging above it.

"Shit," I say, laughing. We both laugh and he sits up with me on his lap, his knees still over the edge of the bed. My legs wrap around his waist and when we start moving, the angle is perfect inside and out. Just in case, his fingers return to my clit, moving in ever tightening circles. My hands go to his shoulders, for leverage and for something to hold onto.

His tags are caught up around his neck and I feel them slide under my hands. "Why do you have these on?" I ask, slipping them behind his back.

"I was flying. After you left, I went up." He doesn't have to say anymore. I already know why he wears them when he's flying. He does it in case the unthinkable happens.

"You went without me?" I ask, faking a pout.

"I'm taking you with me now so shut up." His voice comes out deep and raspy and I love the sound of it.

We both continue to move against the other. The room smells of warmth and sex and Harm and I shut my eyes, trying to absorb it all. I try not to think of how wrong this all is. I'll think about that when the sun comes up but not right now.

"Always take me with you," I whisper and he nods. Both of us know it's an impossible request. I don't care.

Everything starts to unwind inside my body and I struggle to focus. I can't for long and the room begins to swirl around me as everything descends into darkness. My body quakes around him. Quakes and flutters and pulls him with me into this dark place. He lets out one last groan as he releases everything in me and I feel his hot breath near my face as it comes out in ragged, harsh pants. We both hold onto each other, our bodies now slick with sweat and drenched in the fragrance of us.

"Oh God," he mutters softly as he pulls me down to lie beside him on the bed. "I've missed you."

"Harm . . . stop," I say. I don't want him to lie just because of what we've done.

"I have."

"Is this because of your mother?" I ask, and he doesn't say a word. I suspected that might be it but I didn't want to admit it to myself.

"Usually, my mom doesn't come up in conversations right after I've had sex with someone," he says with a sniffle.

"I was just wondering because I know that's a lot of stress and . . ." I'm interrupted by the phone ringing somewhere in the house. Shit. Where did I leave the damn phone? May's room.

"Who would be calling you at this hour . . . oh," he says, probably calculating the time in Australia in his head. He rolls away and clutches onto one of my pillows.

"I have to get it. It might be May. I told her I would talk to her today. I'm sorry," I say, grabbing my bathrobe and hurrying towards the door.

"That's okay," is the last thing I hear as I rush from the room.

***************

The morning light trickles through the window shades way too soon. Mac is still sleeping, her hands tucked under her pillow, her face looking peaceful. I'm not so sure how she'll look when she wakes up and sees me in her bed. I'm not sure how I feel right now.

I close my eyes for just a second and during that time I hear the rustle of sheets and feel the warmth of her hand on my cheek. She's awake already.

"You awake?" she asks me and I open my eyes to finally meet hers.

"Yeah, I am," I say and she edges towards me. I wrap her in my arms and breathe in the scent of her hair. I can't make this work out so no one gets hurt. I've run over a million different scenarios in my mind but none of them end well for everybody. I know it's naive of me to believe that it would end well. I know I shouldn't have ever expected it to work out that way. The least painful solution is always the same one. I have to get up from here and not come back.

"You okay?" she asks and I nod my head in a lie. "You don't look okay."

"How would you know?" I ask and she moves back away from me.

"I just know. I know you, Harm. Your life is a mess right now with your mom and now this. I'm surprised you're still here. That you didn't leave before I woke up and go flying," she says and I smile.

"I honestly didn't even think about it," I say, brushing the hair out of her eyes. Mac props herself up on an elbow and puts the back of her hand up against my forehead, just like a mother checking a child's temperature. That's what she is. Someone's mother.

"Are you feeling okay?" she asks, moving away and pressing her lips to the spot her hand just occupied. I grab her again, pulling her body down onto mine.

"I'm feeling fine. Just . . . I don't know, Mac. I don't know how to make everything right," I say and she laughs.

"Harm, aren't you ever going to learn? There is no way to make this right. It's too screwed up to make right anymore," she says, still laughing.

"Then what are we doing here?" I ask. She moves her body against mine just right and I remember exactly what we're doing here.

"I don't know, Harm. You're the one who showed up on my doorstep in the middle of the night. Why don't you tell me what you're doing here? You said this has nothing to do with your mother. What does it have to do with, then? The time was right? Mic is away? You got lonely?" she asks and I close my eyes again, trying to figure it all out myself.

"All of the above?" I answer and she nods before rolling off of me and curling up at my side. "Because I missed you?"

"Is that a question or your reason?" she asks and I just shrug. We both lie here silently, staring at anything but each other. Staring at the ceiling in a bedroom that's not mine. A bedroom that belongs to someone else.

"Are you going to leave him?"

"What?" she asks, propping herself back up on her elbow.

"Leave Mic. Are you going to leave him?" I ask and now she closes her eyes.

"I can't."

"Why not?" I ask and she furrows up her brow before answering.

"He has May."

"He'll bring her home," I say and she doesn't respond. "Mic wouldn't do that, Mac. He'll bring her home. He would have to if she isn't . . ."

"What if he doesn't?"

"Why wouldn't he?" I ask and she sits up, wrapping her arms around her. She stares at the clock and I hear her stomach rumble. Mac is always hungry, even during life altering discussions. I reach out and touch her shoulder but she moves away.

"I don't know. There are a lot of reasons. I just don't know," she says, getting up out of bed and pulling her robe back on before leaving me alone in her room. Again.

**************

Harm finds me in the kitchen, cooking my breakfast. He leans up against the counter, wearing only his jeans and tags and I try not to think about how easy it would be to leave everything behind if he asked again.

I can't tell him the truth. I can't let him know what I'm really afraid of because it's so stupid I have trouble admitting it myself. I stop thinking about what I'm doing and I burn myself on the pan I'm using to fry eggs in.

"Shit!" Harm rushes over to me and pulls me to the freezer. He takes out an ice cube and holds it to the red blister forming on my wrist. The tears begin to form in my eyes and I know they aren't there because of the burn. I hold on to the ice as Harm removes the frying pan from the burner and turns it off.

"You shouldn't be eating that many egg yolks anyway," he says, returning to my side and taking my hand in his again. He holds onto the ice as the tears continue to roll down my cheeks. "Does it hurt that much?"

"Does what hurt?"

"The burn?"

"No," I answer, sighing as I wipe away the tears.

"Then what hurts?" he asks. I pull away from his touch, leaving him holding the melting ice as I start to clean up the mess I made.

"Nothing hurts, Harm. I'm fine," I say. He doesn't ask again but tosses the partially melted ice cube down the drain and stands behind me.

I can't tell him why I'm afraid of leaving Mic. Why I can't tell Mic about this whole affair and let it be done with that. I can't tell Harm that I'm afraid of having to face the tiny possibility that May isn't his but rather is really Mic's biological daughter. It's so stupid but it's the one part of him I can always hold onto. It was something that I knew that no one else did. A part of him that I could keep for myself even though he didn't want me. I'm scared of losing that.

And if she is Mic's, he'll certainly move back to Australia and be given God knows how much custody of her. I might not see her for months. I can't live with that. Even if she isn't his biologically, he is her daddy. I don't know what I would do. After hearing her voice in the middle of the night, I know I can't live without her. I know I can't hurt her like that.

Chances are she is Harm's but I'm so damn scared of finding out otherwise. It's so irrational but what part of this entire thing has been rational? None of it. Not a single day.

"When are you leaving for California?" I ask, sure that I knew the answer at one point but I've forgotten.

"Later tonight."

"Oh," is all I can think to say. I don't why I expected him to stay here longer. I don't even know why I was expecting another night together. I'm not so sure if either of us wants one.

"She's not doing well," he says, his voice so soft and childlike that it brings the tears back to my eyes.

"I'm sorry, Harm," I say, wondering what it would be like to lose a parent that I actually cared for. Or having a parent I cared for ever in my life. He should consider himself lucky. He was blessed with two parents that loved him more than anything. That's all I ever wanted to give my child.

That is what I'm giving my child.

"Thank you for the picture," he says and I just nod. "She'll really like that."

"You'll call me if anything happens?" I ask. He nods yes though I'm certain I won't hear from him for a while. My heart begins to break right there, standing in my kitchen. It breaks for me. For him. For Mic.

Most of all, it breaks for May. She doesn't deserve this mess her mommy has created. I need to straighten everything out. I knew this would all end in the morning light. We could only pretend for so long.

**************

By the time I get done charming the nurse into letting me on the floor after visiting hours, Mom is very asleep in her darkened room. She went home for a few days but ended up back here, in too much pain. Hopefully, with the help of a new home health care nurse, Frank and I can take her back home tomorrow.

Brushing my fingers over her hair, I wonder when it's going to start falling out. I remember being a little boy, watching her brush through it as she was getting ready to go out with Dad. She was all dressed up and so was he, going to some military function. It was rare that he was home during any of these events and they looked so good together. So happy.

I wish I could make someone as happy as he made her. But then again, he also brought her so much pain. My memory shifts until I can picture the tears streaming down her face as she tried to be strong for me. We tried to be strong for each other. Now that I know how much it hurts to lose someone without really losing them, I can't believe how strong she was. He would have made her so happy if he just would have made it home.

I can't figure out how to make Mac happy. I offered her everything I thought she wanted and she turned me down. She won't tell me what she's afraid of. She can't honestly be worried that Mic won't bring back that little girl. He loves both of them too much to hurt them like that. He loves Mac too much to hurt her in all the ways I have.

She never expected me to ask her to leave him. She lived with this safety net around her all this time. Mac never expected me to ask so she never expected to have to make that decision. Maybe I should be glad that she decided what she did. It would be such a mess. Professionally and personally, it would be a quagmire.

Sitting down on the bedside chair, I run my fingers over Mom's hand, careful to avoid all the tubes running into her. She stirs a little but doesn't wake up. She looks so exhausted and this fight has just begun. I reach into my breast pocket for the picture I've carried all this way. Propping it up on the tray table, I angle it so she can see it. See the little girl smiling happily as she holds out a handful of flowers toward the person taking the photograph. She looks so much like her mother and I wonder how thankful Mac is for that. Maybe I should be thankful for that, too.

If neither of us wants the truth to ever come out, then it won't have to. May will never have to know.

"Excuse me, sir?" the nurse who let me in asks from the doorway.

"Yeah?" I say, sitting up in my chair and clearing any thoughts of Mac or May from my mind.

"You're going to have to leave soon," she says, looking at her watch.

"Okay. Thank you for letting me in."

"Anytime," she says with a smile as she leaves me alone with Mom again.

She moves restlessly on the bed, turning my way before her eyes open.

"Harm?" she asks, reaching her hand out to me. I take it in my own and run my thumb across her smooth skin.

"I'm here, Mom," I say, pulling my chair closer to her.

"I was just dreaming about you . . . and your father. And Frank was there. Let's just say it wasn't the most comfortable dream I've ever had," she says with a touch of laughter in her voice. It makes me smile.

"I think Dad would like Frank. He's a good man. He's treated you well," I say, and her fingers tighten around mine.

"But Frank got to raise you. He got to see all the best years that your father didn't."

"It couldn't be helped, Mom," I say, watching her eyes move to the photograph of May.

"No, it couldn't, could it? She's an absolute angel. Mac is so lucky," she says, not taking her eyes off of the picture.

"Mac and Mic are both very pleased with their daughter," I say and she now looks at me.

"They should be thankful they have her," she says, her eyes closing under the weight of utter exhaustion.

"They are. Sometimes I think she's what keeps them together."

"Ironic, isn't it?" my mother says, a smile turning up the corners of her mouth.

"What?"

"Nothing," she says but I already know what she means. I might have given them the one thing that binds them together. I asked her to leave but it's my fault she stays. She doesn't want to hurt her little girl. Just like my own mother never wanted me to hurt. She licks her lips and clears her throat. "Before they throw you out of here, can you see if you can get me some fresh water?"

"Of course," I say, tucking her hand back on the bed as I stand up to leave.

"Harm?" she calls out softly as I reach the door.

"Yes?"

"Everything will work out for the best. It always does," she says, opening her eyes to watch me. I can't help but to smile at her.

"Yeah, it always does."

****************

PART IX  
September 14, 2010

The call came at three a.m. 'We think we found something, Mr. Brumby,' they said. 'Would you like to come out here, Mr. Brumby,' another voice said a few seconds later. They wouldn't tell me what it is. Instead they told me to come way out here. May is asleep in the back of the car. I didn't even have time to find someone to watch her.

I don't even really know where I am. Somewhere near Shenandoah National Park looking for my damn wife. My wife who should be home with us, not running around with . . .

"Daddy?"

"Yes, luv?" I ask, looking at May in the rear view mirror. I was hoping she would sleep a little longer.

"Are we going to see Mommy?" she asks and I don't know what to answer.

"Maybe, sweetheart."

I should have found someone to watch her at home. She doesn't need to endure this with me. I find where they told me to go, some small police station in the back of beyond. It's too quiet here. There should be people all over the place, all looking for Sarah. Instead, there's only one squad car out front.

I gently lift May out of the backseat and carry her over my shoulder into the building. She's sleeping again, limp as a ragdoll over my shoulder. The man at the desk looks up at me with surprise.

"Mr. Brumby?"

"Yes," I say, looking for a place to set May down. There's nothing here but a couple of old vinyl chairs, cracked from years of use, and I decide to hold her instead. The place smells like sweat and bug spray and a ceiling fan creaks over head even though it's been cool outside. I was expecting a much bigger operation for the search. Not this. No wonder they haven't found anything.

"We didn't expect you so fast. Sergeant Janson hasn't even made it back down the mountain yet. Would you like to have a seat?" the man says. His name tag lets me know his last name is Hensley.

"You don't know anything? You can't tell me anything?" I ask. They called me all the way out here. He must know something.

"I'm sorry, sir. It would be better if the sergeant speaks to you," he says, his eyes not meeting mine. My stomach drops at his words and I feel myself losing hold of May. I shift her in my arms and clutch on to her, hoping she doesn't wake up anytime soon. I should have found someone but I was in too big of a rush. But now I know.

Something is wrong. Very wrong

*******************

September 21, 2006

There's something in the air. It's an unsettling feeling, like I'm the last to know something. I don't like it. Everyone watches me walk across the bullpen to my office, their eyes following me until I close the door. I want to shut the strange feeling out. This time, I don't even want to know what's going on because I sense it isn't good.

I'm not even sitting down at my desk yet when someone knocks on the door. "Come in," I call out as I look through the papers on my desk.

"Good morning, ma'am," Bud says, handing me even more papers. "Are you doing okay?"

I look up at him and he has this strange expression on his face. He's looking at me as if I just lost my best friend in the whole world and am now alone to fend for myself.

"Okay. I give. What's going on, Bud?" I ask and he looks down at his feet for a second before looking at me.

"You don't know?"

"Know what?" I ask with a nervous little laugh. I feel completely left out of the loop. May has been sick for the last few days and I've had to take some personal time. I'm now buried under paperwork and apparently I'm missing something big.

"Oh. Well, maybe I better let him tell you himself," Bud says, looking as if he just divulged a big secret that he shouldn't have.

"Him who? Tell me what?"

"Commander Rabb. I think it would be better if he tells you, ma'am," Bud says as he tries to escape my office.

"Bud . . ."

"Yes?" he says, turning around to look at me again. No, if he doesn't want to tell me then he shouldn't have to. Obviously, Harm did something and he should be the one to tell me. After everything else, what could it possibly be? Why wouldn't I be the first to know?

"Nevermind," I say, dismissing him.

I'll have to find out myself.

***************

September 23, 2006

I knew it was only a matter of time before she found out. I just didn't expect for her to come all the way out here, looking for me. Mac is walking a few steps ahead of Frank as he shows her out onto the patio. She looks angry. Or sad. I'm not quite sure which it is. Most of all, she looks like she's trying to hide the fact that she's angry and sad.

"Harm, you didn't tell me that the Colonel was coming to visit," Frank says with a smile. He doesn't know about Mac. My mother might have guessed but I doubt she ever told Frank.

"I didn't know either," I say, looking up at her from my seat by the patio table. She doesn't say anything. None of us do. I know what she's going to say once Frank leaves us.

"Well, I'll let you two talk. If you need anything, I'll be in my den," Frank says, placing his hand on Mac's arm. "It's nice to see you."

"Thank you," she says before turning her attention to me. She waits until Frank is back in the house before either of us says a word.

"You know," I say, looking away from her and out towards the water.

"You could have told me yourself instead of me just stumbling into the news."

"I didn't tell anyone. I don't know how the news got out," I say and she crosses her arms over her chest and rocks back a forth a few times.

"That still doesn't explain why you didn't tell me. Me, Harm. Not some Petty Officer who works at a desk but me. I thought . . ."

"I'm sorry," I say, interrupting her. "We can talk about it now."

She sits down across from me but doesn't look anymore relaxed than she did standing. "This is because of your mother, isn't it? Because of her death?"

I don't answer her right away. Mostly because I'm not sure why I'm doing this. I've told myself a lot of reasons for it but I'm not sure I believe any of them myself yet.

"Then why, Harm? Why Hawaii? Why leave JAG headquarters to be the XO at TSO Pacific? Do you know what this is going to do to your career?" she asks and I nod.

"When did you become concerned with my career?"

"Harm . . ."

"This is for the best. For me. For you. For everyone concerned," I say and she looks away. "What happened last July can't happen again. I can't go running to you every time something goes wrong. Mac, you're married. You're raising a child."

My child. She's raising my child with Mic and there's no way I can get in the middle of that. She gave me her reasons and I have to accept them. Losing her little girl is the worst possible thing that could happen in her life and I can't do that to her.

"Hawaii is so far away."

"I know."

"How am I . . . how are we . . ." she says, stumbling with the words.

"It shouldn't have started again."

She looks at me, her eyes filled with fire.

"So the oh so honorable Harmon Rabb has to put an end to it before it can start up one more time? Did I ask you to do that? Jesus, Harm. You should have thought about this before you showed up at my doorstep when my husband was gone. That's when you should have thought about not starting it again. It's a little late now," she says, her words each punctuated with anger.

"I'm sorry," I say one more time but I'm not sure what for. I guess I'm sorry for so many things. Not being there when I should have been. Not saying something sooner, before she ever married Mic. Not telling her to end the marriage after our weekend in Cape May.

"Yeah, you're sorry. I'm the one who's sorry, Harm. I'm the one who was unfaithful and for what? I should have known better. I should have known that . . ." she says, her words trailing off before she finishes her sentence.

"Known what?"

She doesn't answer me. I don't know what she wants from me. She won't leave Mic out of fear of losing her daughter. She's so afraid of that outside possibility that May really is Mic's daughter that she won't take a chance.

I can't blame her. I don't know if I would take that chance, either. Not for me. Not for anyone.

"Known that you didn't really love me," she finally answers, looking at anything but me. I don't think that word has ever been spoken between us. Love. I didn't think it needed to be. Didn't think at this point that it mattered. I just thought she knew.

"I do," I say and her eyes finally meet mine. She wipes a tear away before it can fall and I want to reach out for her but I stop myself.

"And that's why you're leaving? That's very noble."

"That's not why I'm leaving, Mac, but it's one of the reasons I can't stay."

"What in the hell is that supposed to mean?" she asks and I realize we've always done this. Talked and never made much sense. None of this makes much sense.

"I can't stay because I can't watch you walk out of that damn office every night to go home to someone else. I can't do it anymore."

"I can't leave him."

"That's what you keep saying," I say, my emotions coming through in my voice. There is no hiding anything anymore. Not from Mac. I should have never tried.

"I can't."

"I know."

"So instead you're going to leave me," she says, wiping her hand across her eye again.

"Look at it this way -- with this transfer, chances are you'll be the next JAG," I say and she stares at me.

"That's a hollow victory. One that I'd rather not have," she says, her voice cracking on the words. "Hawaii, Harm? Why so far?"

"I have to."

"No, you don't."

I look at her and a sudden urge to wrap her up in my arms comes over me. I want to hold her forever but I know I can't do that. She'll go back to him and I'll go back to nothing. I know it's my own damn fault. I'm not stupid. Even so, I can't live like that forever. She can't live like this forever, either.

"Yeah, I do. I have to go."

***************

I don't know what I'm doing, sneaking around in the middle of the night. I don't know why I'm going into his room. I just need to talk to him. His stepfather was nice enough to let me stay here. He insisted upon it, actually, and I knew it wasn't a good idea but I had no excuse not to. Not one that I could tell him, anyway.

Harm is asleep and I stand at the side of the bed, watching him for quite a while before he stirs.

"Wha -- what is it? Is something wrong?" he asks, opening his eyes and blinking off the darkness.

"I'm sorry I didn't come to the funeral," I say, not knowing why I decided to start the conversation like that.

"You couldn't get away from work. That was my fault for leaving you there with all that work," he says, yawning.

"You're going to leave me with all that work again. How many times is that now?" I ask and he smiles.

"I'm sorry."

"So you keep saying. Harm, how come I wasn't offered the position you're taking?" I ask, sitting on the edge of his bed. He moves over so I have a little more room.

"I don't know."

"It would have been better for me. We would have been closer to Australia. I don't understand it. Unless you asked for it," I say and he doesn't say a word. "How long have you been planning this? Leaving DC?"

"Since my mother died," he says and I sigh. She's only been gone for a little over a week. He said her health went fast. Faster than he ever imagined. Maybe this isn't all because of me. Maybe her death does have something to do with it. He took it hard, calling me crying at 3 a.m. I wanted to come out here then, but he told me no. I knew I wouldn't be able to anyway, no matter how badly I wanted to.

"You don't have to."

"I know I don't have to. Please, Mac. Could we not go through this again?" he asks. He sounds so tired and I fight the urge to reach out and touch him.

I fight it and lose.

My hand brushes down his arm and he catches it in his. His fingers wrap around mine as he pulls me closer to him and I end up next to him in bed, snuggling in close.

"I'm sorry about your mom, Harm," I say. I know I've said it to him before but those times were over the phone. I never had the chance to say it in person. His arms go limp around me and I know how much it has to hurt him. I don't even know where my mother is right now. I'm not so sure I care.

Just the thought of my daughter feeling about me the way I feel about my mother terrifies me. I will do anything in my power to make sure that doesn't happen. She will have a family and a mother who will never abandon her.

I close my eyes at that thought. She's at home right now, alone with her dad. I did abandon her in a way. I'm going back to her but I abandoned her to run after someone else. To find out how he can leave me.

He's not leaving me. I never had him.

"I really never expected to lose her so soon. My dad. My mom. I have no family, Mac. Or at least not anyone close by," he says and I choke back the words in my throat. I want to tell him that's not true, but I have no right to do so. It's not like he can come over for Christmas dinner.

"So why are you running further away?" I ask and he remains silent.

"I'm not running away," he finally says and I know it's a lie. He's running from me. From what we both want. And I don't know whether to be thankful for it or to hate him for it.

************

September 24, 2006

I wake up to find Mac gone. My hand brushes across the side of the bed she was on but the sheets are cold now. Maybe she got up at some point and went back to her own room. I get up and pull on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt before leaving my room.

Mac isn't in her room, either. Her bed is made and her bag is neatly packed. She has to go back to DC today. I'm sure she lied to a lot of people to make it here this weekend. I have to go back next week for just a few days before I transfer to Pearl Harbor.

I find Frank in the kitchen, making breakfast. I'm not sure he ever eats it. Not since Mom . . . but he makes it. Then he sits with his newspaper and sips his coffee and throws away most of the food.

"Hey, Frank. Have you seen Mac?" I ask and he looks up at me.

"Yeah. She said something about going out to the beach before she had to leave. You want some breakfast?" he asks and I decline.

"No, thank you. I'm just going to go find her. I'll be back later, okay?" I say and he just nods. I'm not sure which one of us is suffering the most from the loss of Mom. It's a toss up most days. At least I'll have work and whole new place to live to focus on soon. Maybe Mac is right. Maybe that's why I'm doing it.

I walk outside and follow the road down to the beach path. I've always enjoyed this house but I'm sure Frank will probably sell it now. It was always too big for just two people let alone just one. My mother kept it for the parties she would throw and for when friends from the gallery came to visit. I don't even know what's going to happen to the gallery now. She said she had it all taken care of and Frank hasn't mentioned it.

I find Mac sitting on the sand near some rocks, watching the waves come in. With all her travelling to Australia, I'm sure she's seen beaches far more beautiful than this one, but this one holds a special place in my heart. Mom and I used to come down here. She spent a lot of time here, getting sun or just staring at the waves. I always imagined she was looking towards Dad.

Mac looks up and me and smiles before patting the sand beside her. I sit down and watch the same waves she's watching.

"Where we stay in Australia, it's always the sun rising over the ocean. It would be nice to see a sunset for a change," she says, her fingers digging through the wet sand.

"Then stay another night," I say and she sighs. "Stay and watch the sunset with me."

"I can't. I have to be back to work in the morning. Someone is leaving, you know and I have a lot to do," she says, giving me a sly little smirk.

"I'll be back to help in a few days," I say, adding to her pile of sand. We haven't been at a beach together since . . . Cape May. That seems so long ago. So much time without each other that we should be used to it by now.

"And then you'll be gone again," she says. She shakes the sand off of her fingers and wraps her arms around her knees. We're going to keep this discussion up until I leave. It's not something she's going to drop easily.

"Careers, Mac. In the Navy, one can never depend on staying in the same place for long. You know that," I say.

"Don't tell me you're doing this to advance your career because you know it isn't going to. And unlike when you returned to flying, this isn't about some personal dream. This is different, Harm. This is you running away from something," she says and I tense up. She's right and we both know it. But there are no other options besides running.

"Mac . . ."

"I know. This is for the best or something stupid like that. Jesus, Harm. You could be the next JAG. Instead, you're going to be stuck in Hawaii," she says, anger rising up in her voice.

"There are far worse places to be stuck, Mac. And to be honest, I tried for a transfer here to San Diego but they didn't want me," I say and she turns to look at me.

"San Diego. Pearl Harbor. What's the difference. It's still a million miles away," she says.

"Well, not quite that far but it could be worse. I could have gone to the NSLO Pacific detachment in Guam," I say, shaking my head. Guam was going just a bit far.

"What are you going to do with the Stearman? Do you plan on taking her with you?" she asks and I shrug my shoulders.

"Not right away."

"So you'll be back?" she asks, sounding a lot happier than she did a few seconds ago. I wonder if Mic makes her sound like that? Does he even make her happy anymore? Did he ever? Sometimes I think the only thing that really makes Mac happy is May. I gave her the only thing that really makes her happy. Yet, in doing so, I can't ever be part of it. I can watch from the outside but never be on the inside and it's my own fault. Not hers. Not Mic's. Just mine.

"Yeah," I say, smiling as I pull her into my arms. "And when I do come back, will you come flying with me?"

"Always," she says and we both watch the waves crash against the shore.

************

PART X

September 14, 2010

"Mr. Brumby? I'm Sergeant Janson."

A tall man with graying hair puts out his hand and I shake it. I'm trying to read from his expression what's going on but he's not giving anything away.

"Mic. Call me Mic. And this is my little girl, May," I say, nodding towards my sleeping daughter. She's got herself curled up in one of the chairs and she actually looks quite peaceful.

"I'm going to call Becky over at the church and see if she can watch your little one for you," he says, moving back behind the front desk and towards the phone. From the tone in his voice, I know I don't have an option. Whatever he knows or whatever I'm going to see, it would be better if she didn't see it with me.

He dials the phone, says a few words and hangs up again. "Becky is my daughter. She's a classroom assistant over at the church school so your daughter will be in good hands."

"What is it you aren't telling, Sergeant? It's my wife out there. I have a right to know," I ask rather pointedly. This causes May to stir around until she wakes herself up.

"Daddy? Did they find Mommy?" she asks, sitting up and winding her eyes with small fists.

I look to the Sergeant and he looks away. I go and kneel in front of her, taking her hands in mine.

"Someone is going to come look after you for a while . . ."

"I want to stay with you!" she cries, wrinkling her face up as the tears start to flow.

"I won't leave you long, luv. You know that. Sergeant Janson and I have a few things we need to talk about," I say, and she continues to pout. I pull her into my arms, hugging her as tight as I possibly can.

"Find Mommy for me, please. Please, Daddy," she says, wiping her face on my shirt.

"I'm going to try to do everything I can to find your mum," I say. "Everything I can."

 

*******************

February 21, 2008

"I have to be on that plane. Now," I say to the ticket agent again. She doesn't care enough about my predicament. She keeps typing things in but nothing is coming up my way.

"I'm sorry, Miss . . ."

If she says she's sorry one more time I'm going to scream. I will. I need to be on a flight. Any flight and she just isn't helping any.

"I'll take whatever you have. I'll fly through . . . through London if I have to. Please. I just need a ticket," I say one more time. Before I can begin pleading again, her face lights up. She looks like she hit the jackpot or else she's just happy she's going to be rid of me.

"When will you be returning?" she asks and I look at her. I haven't even though about this. I know I have to come back. I just don't how long this is going to last. I have to be back at work soon but I don't want to cut my time short.

"I don't know. Can you make it open ended?" I ask and she nods before looking back to the monitor in front of her. A few seconds later she looks back at me and looks relieved as she gives me an extravagant grand total for my one way flight. I hand over my credit card without hesitation. I have to do this, no matter the cost.

I have to get there.

******************

February 21, 2008

I look out the window at the planes coming in, bringing in all the tourists looking to get away from the winter weather on the mainland. I find that I can't stop looking at my watch. Can't stop my heart from beating hard in my chest.

How long has it been since I've seen her?

Too long.

It took a case to get her out here. I had asked a few times, sent her an occasional letter with a request for her to visit. I promised that nothing would happen, but I guess she knew better. She always turned me down.

This time, she didn't have a choice. She's here on business and since she'll be working out of my office, there was no way for her to avoid me.

Nothing will happen. It can't.

I keep telling myself that. I keep trying to believe it. To make myself accept that we can be nothing more than friends.

But that doesn't mean I don't want to skip the working part and take her right to my place. Doesn't mean I don't want to kiss her the moment she steps off the plane. Those feelings are never going to go away.

Time and distance didn't make them go away. An ocean and a continent between us didn't make them go away. Two years didn't make them go away.

I find the screen with the arrival times on them and her plane is still on time. She couldn't get on a military hop from the states to here so she had to take a commercial flight with the tourists. It probably would have been better had she shown up in her uniform on the base. Then I would be dressed in mine and there would be something there preventing me from taking her into my arms and holding her tight. This way, who knows how we will respond.

In ten minutes, we'll find out.

******************

February 21, 2008

The flight attendant finally took the hint and this time down the aisle, she doesn't ask me if I need anything else. I don't need anything. Just for this damn plane to go faster.

The person next to me thankfully fell asleep hours ago and hasn't asked me anymore questions about the weather or what to see when we reach our destination. I'm too nervous to answer questions. He was nice enough to give me his window seat before he fell asleep and for that I'm thankful. At least I can stare at something and take my mind off all of this.

I look out over the dark ocean and the miles and miles of nothingness and wish for a swift tailwind to take us there faster. I feel trapped on here, helpless. I'm not certain I'll feel any different once I get there, but at least I'll be able to do something about all these damn feelings welling up inside me.

The pilot comes on and warns us about turbulence ahead and tells us he's going to put the seat belt sign on again. I find that I never took mine off, as if that was going to make this trip go by any quicker.

All I can do is sit and stare out the window and worry about what's going to happen next.

****************

February 21, 2008

"Bud?"

"It's good to see you again, Captain Rabb," Bud says with a smile as he slings his carry-on bag over his shoulder.

"Where's . . . I thought the Colonel was coming?" I ask. I hope like hell that I'm hiding the disappointment on my face better than I'm burying it in my heart.

"She had a family emergency, sir . . ."

"Harm," I say, looking towards the gate as if there's a chance she might just show up.

"She had a family emergency, Harm. She had to fly to Australia at the last minute and the Admiral had me take her place on this case.

"Family emergency? What kind of emergency?" I ask, though I can barely hear myself through the sudden sound of my heartbeat that pounds all the way up to my ears.

"I don't really have all the details. The Colonel's daughter was on vacation there with Mic and his family and there was some sort of accident. She didn't even know exactly what happened when she left but she was going to call the office when she knew more," Bud says.

I find that I can't move. Bud wouldn't know why, of course. He wouldn't know any of it and he certainly wouldn't know why my damn feet aren't responding to my brain's command to move. I need to find a phone. I need to know what happened.

"Do you, uh, I need to . . ."

"Are you okay, sir? Harm?" Bud asks, reaching out to touch my arm.

"I . . . I'm fine. When did the Colonel say she would be contacting the office?" I ask, looking at my Rolex and trying to figure out what time it is in Sydney. My brain can't even figure that out.

"As soon as she knew something definite. I'm sure everything will be okay. Mic said it wasn't that serious and Harriet said he sounded fine on the phone when he called to find out if Colonel MacKenzie left already," Bud says and I shake my head as if I don't understand him.

"Mic wasn't hurt?"

"No. Actually, I think May had some sort of accident. That's all I know, Harm. I wish I could tell you more. But that's why I'm here and she's not," Bud says, looking out the window with a smile. "It's been a long time since I've seen Hawaii. When I'm done with my investigation, you'll have to show me around and we'll have to hit the beach."

"Yeah," I say, trying to focus again and finding that I can't.

****************

February 22, 2008

"She's doing better, luv. A lot better," Mic says and he drives towards his sister's house. He's not going fast enough. If I thought the plane was slow, that's nothing compared to Mic's driving. "It was just a little accident. A few stitches and she's all better."

"Then why did they keep her in the hospital so long?" I ask. I was so worried about all of this that I completely forgot to call Harm and let him know I wouldn't be the one he'd be meeting at the gate at the airport. I'm sure Bud will let him know. I look out the window and sigh. I should be the one to tell him that something happened, but I don't even know what has happened yet.

"They kept her for further observation. They were worried that she suffered from a concussion during the fall. Sarah, you didn't have to fly all the way down here. I had everything under control," he says and I can't believe I'm supposed to take him seriously.

"Mic, my little girl was hurt and in the hospital and you expected me to go to work as if nothing happened? Do you know how much I worried? All I could think is that you were all lying to me and that it was actually worse. I didn't know . . . I didn't know how I was supposed to live without her," I say, choking on the tears now. The mere thought of something happening to her does that to me. The thought of my baby being in pain tears me apart. I don't ever want for her to be hurting. If I didn't care about her getting hurt, things would be so different . . .

"She's going to be okay, Sarah. She's my daughter, too. I'm the one who sat with her all night in the hospital . . ."

"If you would have stayed in DC, this wouldn't have happened," I say, my voice now tearful and angry. I didn't want them to go, but Mic insisted on going to some family wedding and taking May with even though I couldn't get out of the case I was working on for that much time.

"She slipped and hit her head, Sarah. That could happen anywhere and you know it . . ."

"Where did it happen?" I ask.

"The beach."

"She wouldn't have been on the beach in DC, now would she?" I ask and he gives me an incredulous glance.

"Not in February I imagine. But accidents happen and she's going to be fine. I promise you, she's going to be fine," he says and I scoff.

"But what if something would have happened to her. She's my only baby. She's is the absolute love of my life, Mic. There's no way to make another one of her. No way . . . there is no way to ever replace everything that she is to me," I say and his expression falls flat.

"You think I don't feel all those things? Just because I'm her daddy? Sarah, I was terrified. There was all this blood and she was crying for you and I didn't know how I was going to live if anything happened to her," he says and now he sounds like he's almost in tears. "I would move the heavens if it would mean she would never hurt in her life and you know that."

I do know that. He loves her just as much as I do. He just doesn't know the things that I do and the heaviness in my heart bears down even more at that thought. He doesn't know all the reasons why she is so precious to me. He'll never know. He loves her and he'll never know the truth. Because of how much he loves her, he can't ever find out. It would kill him.

I cover my eyes with my hands and rub them, trying to blot all this out. I can't. This mess I've created is never going away.

******************

February 22, 2008

"That was Harriet, sir," Bud says, hanging up the phone as I walk into my office. He gets out of my seat as I move behind my desk and sit down. "Colonel MacKenzie called in today and she said everyone was doing okay."

I let out the breath I didn't even know I was holding and close my eyes. I was up all night, wondering if I should call. Wondering *who* I should call. I wouldn't even know where to start and I felt this overwhelming panic for hours. There was nothing I could do and I couldn't deal with the helplessness I felt. Even if I knew where to call, I couldn't do it and have it not look suspicious. I've never called her at home since I've been stationed here. Why would I call her in Australia now?

"That's good," I manage to say, opening my eyes to see Bud staring at me from across my desk.

"Are you all right?" he asks and I nod my head 'yes' and try to make it look convincing. "I have one more deposition and then I'll be done. I think I can catch a hop out of here early tomorrow morning."

"I thought you were staying longer," I say, looking puzzled. Even though I've been on edge since he arrived yesterday, it's been nice having an old friend around.

"I was planning on it, but with the Colonel gone, I need to get back to cover on some of her cases. I'm sorry, Harm. I was really looking forwards to seeing you longer," Bud says, his expression not hiding his disappointment.

"Maybe I can get stateside soon. It's been a long time since I've seen Sarah. I miss her more than you can imagine," I say and Bud cocks his head to the side. "My plane, Bud. I miss flying my plane."

"Oh! You are more than welcome to stay with us whenever you're in town. I hope you know that," Bud says and I nod. My phone rings and I grab it, listen to who's on the other end of the line and then hand it over to Bud. "It's for you."

He says 'yes' a few times to the person on the other side of the line and then hangs up. "That was about the flight. I'll be leaving here tomorrow morning at 0500. I'm sorry, Harm. I really wish I could stay longer but the caseload has been crazy lately."

"I bet."

Bud looks at me for a moment and then asks, "Do you ever miss it?"

I try to keep the sadness out of my eyes and off my expression but I can't. "Of course I do."

I want to add that this is for the best, but he wouldn't know why it's for the best. It certainly wasn't best for my career but no one questioned me. My mother had just died and I think they all assumed I just needed a change. The Admiral looked disappointed but he let me go. Or maybe he knew why I had to go. I don't really know.

"We miss you, too, sir," he says, looking towards my window before looking back at me. "We all do."

We both sit and stare at each other without saying a word. He doesn't have to say anything. I know what he's talking about.

"How about after that deposition, you and I go out and get something to eat? See a little bit of the town?" I ask and Bud smiles. "I promise I won't keep you out too late and that you'll make it to your flight on time."

"I'd like that, Harm."

******************

February 22, 2008

"Mommy!" my daughter cries out as I enter the room. She's sitting on the couch with her aunt, coloring with her crayons. Mic was right. She doesn't look that bad. I go to her, finding that my feet can't move fast enough, and I sweep her up into my arms. She holds on tight and I start crying even though I know I shouldn't. I can't help myself.

"How are you feeling?" I ask, sitting down with her on my lap.

"I'm okay, Mommy," she says, touching the bandage on her forehead gingerly. Her face is a little swollen and black and blue but it doesn't seem to be slowing her down that much. I want to peel back that bandage and get a good look at what happened but I'm sure I'll get my chance later. "I got a bad boo boo."

"I know," I say, hugging her even tighter now.

"It hurt and I cried," she says, squirming away from me. "They made me try to keep still and it was hard."

"I'm sorry Mommy wasn't there," I say and she looks at the tears falling from my eyes.

"Daddy held my hand," she says, looking across the room towards Mic. "He didn't get scared from the blood or nothing."

I laugh and she smiles at me. A bright, glorious dimpled smile that sparkles all the way to her eyes, causing them to crinkle up in a way I never noticed before. God . . . for the first time, she looks . . .

"I told you she was okay," Mic says, interrupting my thoughts.

"I'm so glad you're okay, sweetie. I was so worried about you," I say, not wanting to let her go no matter how much she squirms.

"Does this mean I got to go home?" May asks, looking worried.

"Do you want to go home, luv? Do you want to go home with your mum?" Mic asks, moving closer to us.

"It's cold at home. I like it here. I can play outside and go to the beach," she says, her eyes pleading with me to let her stay. "I promise I won't fall off of anything else, Mommy."

"I know you won't, baby doll, but Mommy can't stay here. I've got to get back to work . . ."

"I can stay with Daddy," she says, looking towards Mic once again. Mic smiles at her and nods his head. I sigh. I don't want to leave her this far away again. I feel so out of control when she's on the other side of the world.

Then again, when have I ever been in control of any of this? Never. I never will be.

"I'll tell you what. I will stay a few days just to make sure you're okay, and then if I think you're doing all right, then you can stay with Daddy. How does that sound?" I suggest and she throws her arms around my neck once again.

"Thank you, Mommy!" she says, sounding so pleased while the tears roll down my cheeks.

******************

February 22, 2008

I watch Bud sip some sort of fruity drink out of a pineapple while he tries to keep his eyes off of the wait staff. It's getting more difficult for him to do so the more drinks he has. Their skimpy Polynesian costumes aren't helping any.

"What would make you come back, sir?" Bud slurs, smiling as our waitress comes by again.

"You need anything, Harm?" she asks and I order another beer. Bud makes an appreciative face at the fact the waitress knows my name.

"She's pretty," he says, watching her walk away. "Now I know the reasons you stay. But what would make you come back?"

He's not going to let it go and I try to skirt the issue.

"I have a good position here, Bud. Why would I want to go back to DC? I mean, look at it around here," I say, motioning to the clear sky over our heads. I'm sure it's snowing in DC right now and the weather should be reason enough to stay here.

"What about your career?" he asks and I shrug.

"After I returned to flying and proved I could do it and then found out that didn't make or break my life, it just didn't seem that important. Other things were far more important but I just didn't take the time to see that back then," I say as Bud tries to focus on me and grasp what I'm saying. "Surely you know there's more to life than a career, Bud?"

"Yeah. But I've got Harriet and a family. You . . ."

He stops himself from saying it and I look away. I could have had all those things. I threw it all away for something and I'm not sure what anymore.

"I'm sorry, Harm. It just seems that you had a chance to be the next JAG and now you're way out here and I know that everybody would be really happy to have to come back. Maybe not Mic Brumby, but everybody else," Bud says and I nearly choke on my beer. He doesn't even know the half of it. If he only knew, he wouldn't even joke about it.

"I'm sure Mic Brumby is quite content with me here in Hawaii," I say, happy that Missy showed up with a fresh beer. Maybe that will change the topic of conversation. She gives me a big smile as she walks away and I smile back.

"But Mac . . . it was hard on her, Harm," he says and I just stare at him, not knowing what to say.

"I, uh . . ."

"Yeah. She had to take on your work load and she hardly ever got out of the office," he finishes and I smile even though something in me hopes it was more than just work.

"I guess that's why she got promoted, huh?" I ask and Bud reaches for his pineapple drink.

"I guess. She's good at her job. I just don't know how happy she is anymore," Bud says before slurping the last bit of liquid up through the straw. He plays with the little umbrella before looking at me. "But you look happy here, Harm."

"I am," I say, trying to convince not only him but me. Bud looks like he believes me. Why wouldn't he believe me? "We better get you back so you can make your flight on time. Wouldn't want to deny JAG HQ of their best lawyer."

Bud's face lights up when I say that. "Why, thank you, sir! I appreciate that a lot."

 

*****************

February 23, 2008

"You could stay," Mic says as I watch my daughter play in the sand on the seashore. She can't go in the water until her wound has had more time to heal, but she looks content to pile sand up into a bucket.

"I have to work, Mic. You know that."

"I meant forever, Sarah," he says and I sigh. We've been through this so many times and I can't believe he's starting it again.

"My career . . ."

"My family," he counters before I can say more. I roll over on the beach towel and face away from him. I build up a little pile of sand and crush it between my fingers. I hate this conversation. I hate it more today than I did the first time he started this.

"I can't just quit. It's a big part of who I am," I say and he sighs.

"I used to think there was more keeping you in DC but I now know that assumption is wrong since . . ." he starts and I know what he was thinking. I turn back over and brush the sand off of my hands.

"There was never more keeping me in DC than my career, Mic," I lie. He doesn't hold my stare, but instead looks out to where our suntanned daughter is laughing about something.

"I know that now, Sarah. If there was something else, you would have left DC by now. So it must be your career. But please consider it. For me? For May? Look how happy she is here. And she's got family here," he says, pleading with me.

I stop for a moment and close my eyes. I don't know why I stay where I am. I don't know why I fight it so much. He's not coming back there. He's happy in Hawaii. He's said it himself so many times in his e-mails. And still I suffer through the backbreaking caseload and the miserable winter weather. Why in the hell am I doing it? So I can be the next JAG? I know the chances are slim on that one. They'll probably bring someone in like they did the last time. Probably a man.

Someone warm and scented of coconuts crawls onto my lap and giggles. I open my eyes to find May smiling up at me, as happy as can be. She really does love it here. I don't know why I fight it so much. Maybe everybody would be happier here. Maybe this is a place where I could finally escape it all.

I'm just not so sure I want to escape it.

"You're right. It isn't such a bad idea. I'll think about it, Mic," I concede and he smiles.

"That's a change from the usual. Good on you, Sarah," he says, pulling May onto his lap and then reaching for more sunscreen to cover her with. "Maybe you and I can convince your mum just how perfect it would be to live here all the time."

"Can we!?" she asks excitedly and I shrug my shoulders.

"I'll think about it. On my flight home to the snow and the ice, I'll think about it," I say and now they are both smiling.

 

******************

February 25, 2008

I stare at the phone, contemplating whether I should still call her or not. I'm not even sure where I would even call. I feel like I should do something, especially considering May was involved. I still don't know what I feel about May. First and foremost, she's Mac's little girl no matter how she got here. I wouldn't want anything to happen to her because the pain would be unbearable for Mac. And for Mic. But what would I feel? I decided I couldn't be part of that years ago and I can't change it now. The price would be too high and we all know it.

I try to focus on the paperwork in front of me but none of it means anything right now. People come in and ask questions and I merely nod at them, hoping I get the answer right. The phone rings and I jump to answer it and each time I hope it's Mac though I don't know why it would be. I haven't spoken to her for months. She wasn't even the one to call me and tell me she was going to be here. She didn't even bother to call and tell me she couldn't make it.

"Rabb," I say into the receiver, turning in my chair to look out the window. It's someone about a case that's been difficult. I mumble my way through his questions while I gaze off into nothing. Finally, they get the answer they wanted and hang up but I don't turn back towards my desk. I lean back in my chair and stare blankly out the window. Maybe I need to take some leave and go back to the states. Take care of my plane. Visit friends. See my mom.

Or maybe it would just be best if I stayed here and didn't use the pretense of maintaining my airplane as a way to see Mac.

I went for so long without feeling like this only . . .

"Captain Rabb?" I hear a voice say and I nearly tip over backwards.

"Colonel MacKenzie," I say, righting myself and standing up out of my chair. She's standing in the doorway, smiling at my clumsiness. "What are you doing . . . I mean, Bud took care of the case and . . . is something wrong? Is May okay?"

We're both in uniform and there are people watching from outside my office. If they weren't there, I'd have her in my arms by now. She looks exhausted and she looks like she has sat on too many planes for too long in the last few days.

"How long do you plan on hiding out here?" she asks, closing the door behind her.

"What?"

"How long do you plan on doing this?"

"It's nice to see you, too," I say, shaking my head at her questions. I have no idea what's going on.

"Harm, May was hurt and one of the things I couldn't figure out was how was I going to tell you. Would you even care? Then I thought about the fact that you don't even know her. How could you care? We have fucked this up so badly and I don't know how to get out of it now," she says, not moving from her spot just inside the closed door.

"I can't know her. That's out of the question," I say, moving closer to her. I take her hand in mine and she fights back the tears.

"And that hurts."

"I know it does. But what do you want me to do?" I ask. The people in the outer office are watching us through the blinds now. At this point, it would look even worse if I closed them so I let go of her hand.

"I don't know what I want," she says, crossing her arms in front of her. "I want everything but I can't have it anymore. She loves him, Harm. And he loves her."

"Would that change if they knew?" I ask, looking at the floor.

"I honestly don't know. How could it not change to some degree? Not that he'd love her any less but . . ."

We both fall silent. Words don't matter much anyway. This thing is too complicated to be solved with just a few words. Neither of us knows what would solve it at this point and we probably never will.

"How long are you here for?" I ask.

"Until tomorrow. I . . . needed to see you," she says, sounding so guilty.

"You want to go talk someplace where so many people aren't watching us?" I ask, nodding in the direction of the window. She glances in that direction and that back at me.

"Yes. Show me Hawaii," she says with a forced smile.

"It probably can't compare to Australia," I say and she closes her eyes for just a moment.

"Sure it can," she says, looking at me again. "Let's get out of here."

 

******************

February 25, 2008

"You'll never know her," I say. Harm and I are sitting at a patio table at some restaurant but I'm not interested in food. I haven't been able to eat for days and now my stomach is even more tense. It's probably the company I'm keeping. I feel nervous and excited and I can't believe I changed my plane ticket and flew here. I'll have to make up some story for Mic, but I've gotten so good at that. After telling lies for years, one more doesn't ever seem to make a difference.

"Mac, you and I both decided a long time ago that this was how it was going to be," he says and I just stare at him.

"I don't remember us discussing it and coming to that decision," I say and his eyes don't move from mine.

"You know what I mean. It may not have been spoken and it may have been something that we did without really thinking about, but you know that's what we did. Rationalize it all you want, but everything we have right now is everything we deserve," he says, leaning back in his chair. His face is tan and he's gotten a little older since the last time I've seen him but in uniform, he still demands attention. Even in this place full of men in uniform.

"When did you become so philosophical?" I ask and he smiles a little before turning his face away from me.

"When I stopped competing for everything," he says and I laugh.

"Harm, you're still that cocky aviator holding tight to the stick between his legs and you know it. You haven't given up competing for anything and don't try to fool anyone. Most of all, don't try to fool me," I say. The waiter comes by and offers to pick up our plates, carrying mine off with most of my meal still on it.

"I stopped competing for you," he says softly and I don't know what to say. We both watch the other, waiting for someone to say something. "I stopped competing for you and against you."

"I didn't know you were ever competing for me. If you were, you didn't try very hard," I say, finally looking down at the surface of the table.

"I was too scared of losing."

My chest tightens and I don't know why he's doing this now. Like always, it's too late. It's always been too late.

"You wouldn't have."

"I didn't know that," he says.

"So what do we do now?" I ask again. That's what I'm always asking.

"I don't know. What do you want to do?" he asks and I just stare at him for a while before I answer.

"Spend the night with you," I say. It's the truth. Why shouldn't I tell him? He almost chokes and a bunch of people turn their heads to look at us but I could care less. We've played games for too many years and I'm not going to do it anymore. I want to be with him.

He carefully considers me and my offer for a few seconds before smiling. "Okay," he answers with a smile that lights up his whole face and both of us laugh.

******************

February 25, 2008

"I remember every minute we've spent together. You're one of my favorite memories, you know," she says and I laugh a little. "No, I'm serious. I can't even remember my first kiss anymore. I know what you're thinking. I was probably drunk at the time but believe it or not, that isn't the case. I don't even really remember all too clearly the first time Mic and I . . ."

"Hmm . . ." I say, looking away. I don't want to hear about it whether she remembers it or not.

"But you . . . I remember everything, Harm. I'll be lying in bed at night and I remember you," she says, moving closer to me. "Your touch. The scent of you. The way your skin feels under my fingertips."

Her fingers slide across my arm and it sends shivers down my spine. She takes my hand in hers, pulling it to her mouth and placing a kiss on my palm. We are sitting on my couch, my arms wrapped around her, doing nothing but talking. Even though she's leaving tomorrow, there doesn't seem to be any hurry. She's spending the night. That will be enough time even though I'm starting to miss her already.

"The sound of rain hitting the window makes me think of our weekend in Cape May. The whir of an airplane flying overhead makes me want to cry," she continues and I don't know what to say. "There is nothing that makes that go away."

"Time," I whisper and she moves around until she's on my lap, straddling me, her mouth hovering above mine.

"Not even time," she says before her mouth covers mine, her tongue moving past my lips and touching mine. The initial contact is electric and it sends a surge through my body. We both discarded our uniforms when we got back to my place and that's a good thing because I don't think I want to contend with all those buttons now.

I pull away from her mouth and tug her t-shirt up and over her head and then unfasten her bra, sending it somewhere to the end of the couch.

"You want to do this here?" I ask, already finding it hard to breathe. "I have a bed. We can . . ."

"Later," she says with a smile, pulling my face towards her breasts. My tongue circles around one hardened nipple and then the other and her fingers rake through my hair. I moan as her nails scrape gently against my scalp and with that, she grinds against my cock and I thrust my hips up off the cushion. I want to feel all of her and I don't really care where it happens.

She struggles to get me out of my clothes and to get the rest of hers off as well, I lift my hips up off the couch as she pulls my jeans down just enough for what we're doing. She's completely naked and beautiful and I can't wait to be inside of her again.

Settling down on my lap again, she brushes her sex against my cock but doesn't let me slide into her.

"Tease," I say and she smiles.

"I'm just making it last," she says and I wrap my hands around her hips and guide her to where I want to go. She gasps when I slip in and we both stay absolutely still, just getting used to one another again.

And then she starts to move. She moves and I move my hands up to her breasts, cupping them as they bounce from the motion of us together. She grinds up and down and around and I move a finger down between the apex of her thighs, touching her. Mac moans softly as we both keep moving, the only sound in the still room that of wet flesh slapping together.

She clenches up around me, a teasing look crossing her face again.

"God . . do you know what you do to me?" I say, breathless now and she can't help but smile.

"I have the general idea."

Her hands slide up my chest until her fingernails are circling my nipples and the sensation is enough to bring me to the edge. She stops long enough for me to regain some control but then she tightens up around me again while she slides up and down and that's it. I'm falling and falling and there's no way to stop it now.

I empty everything into her while I continue touching her. Not long after I get my body back under control again, a sweet, slow spasm passes through hers. She tosses her head back and moans through the pleasure and I keep pressing against her, trying to draw it out. She grabs my hand away and hold it in her own, her nails digging into my skin. Finally, we both still and she falls forward against me.

"Come back to me," she whispers, her head resting against my shoulder.

"And then what?" I ask, my chest still heaving as I try to catch my breath.

"I don't know. Just . . . come back to me."

**************

February 26, 2008

I wake up, startled to find myself in a strange room with unfamiliar shadows dancing across the walls. A hand reaches out and stills me before I can sit up and I recognize the touch and it comforts me.

"You okay?" he asks, rolling over onto his side and putting an arm over me.

"Yeah. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you. I just woke up and didn't know where I was," I say, turning to face him. We lie with our noses nearly touching, both our heads on one pillow now.

"You didn't wake me. I was up. Thinking."

"About?" I ask, my voice hesitant at best. What might be coming next always frightens me.

"Coming home," he says, his hand sliding up my back and through my hair.

"What about it?"

"Why do you want me there?"

"I just do," I say, rolling onto my back again and staring at the ceiling. He rolls away from me and we both stare upwards now.

"Are you leaving him?" he ask softly.

"I can't . . ."

"I know. You're afraid of losing May if you tell him the truth. But what if you don't tell him everything? Wouldn't he stay in DC anyway?" Harm asks and I close my eyes.

"He wants me to resign my commission and move to Australia with him," I say and he sighs.

"Is that what this is about? If I'm in DC, you have an excuse not to go? Though I don't see how I could be your excuse if he doesn't know about us," he says with a hint of anger in his voice.

"I'll have a reason. I'll tell him I don't want you to be the next JAG. I'll tell him something. I don't know what. But if you're there, then I won't be so damned tempted to leave," I say and he sighs.

"And then what, Sarah? Then what?" he asks and we both stare into the darkness with no answers.

"Don't you miss home? Don't you miss your plane? Your old job? I can't imagine you happy out here, sitting around in a tacky Hawaiian shirt and wondering where your life went to."

"I don't own a tacky Hawaiian shirt," he says and I laugh.

"Not even one?"

"No. Not anymore."

"And they let you stay anyway?" I ask.

"Yeah, they let me stay. It's not a law, you know. Owning an ugly shirt."

After we finish laughing, silence fills the room again. His hand reaches out and grabs onto mine, our fingers fitting together so easily.

"Come home," I try again.

"I'll think about it," he answers. We both roll over into each other's arms and slowly, gently, fall back to sleep.

**************

February 26, 2008

I find her sitting out on my back porch, staring out over the hills of Oahu. The morning is cool and she's wearing one of my Navy sweatshirts, the cuffs pulled down over her hands. A cup of coffee is in front of her but it doesn't look like she's even taken a sip out of it. There's no steam rising from it and I have no idea how long she's been here. All I know is I woke up alone, like most every morning. I was hoping for something different today.

"Hey," I say and that shakes her out of her reverie.

"Hey, yourself," she says, motioning for me to sit down next to her.

"How'd you sleep?" I ask and she just gives me a knowing smile.

"You mean for the two hours that I did sleep? It was wonderful," she says.

We both look out at the view, or rather we both avoid looking at each other.

"I'll come back," I say and she turns her head in my direction. "But only under the condition that someday you tell him. Everything. It isn't fair, what we've created. It isn't fair to Mic and it isn't fair to May. Mic is in love with you but he doesn't have all the information. But then I guess he never has, has he?"

I look at her and she looks like she wants to say something but she doesn't know what. Her mouth opens and closes and an flash of anger passes through her eyes.

"When would you like me to do this? When do you want me to tell him?" she asks, her eyes searching mine.

"Someday when you think May is ready to find out her parents aren't everything she thinks they are," I say and Mac shakes her head.

"When do you think that day will be? Remember how you felt when you found out about your dad? She's just a child, Harm. I can't . . ."

"Then tell them in thirty years. Forty years. Whatever. Just promise me that someday, you'll tell them," I say and she nods. "Time won't make it hurt any less, you know."

"It never does. When did you become so noble?" she asks, pulling the cuffs over her hands and taking a sip of cold coffee.

"So far I've become philosophical and noble. It must be the nice weather," I say and she smiles. "What time is your flight?"

"It's at 1800 hours," she says, looking over to my wrist to see what time it is. She sighs with a slight bit of relief when she figures out we have another nine hours to be together.

"Didn't you have to be at work?" she asks, looking up towards me.

"I took the day off. I have this friend who's got this plane and he takes people up and over the islands for sightseeing. I'm pretty sure he can fit us in if I ask. You want to come fly with me?" I ask.

She smiles. A bright, honest smile that lights up her eyes. "I'd love to go flying with you, Harm. Any time. Any place."

"I'll keep that in mind in case I'm ever back in DC. And if he's booked for today, I'm sure we can find other things to do," I say, standing up to go make some phone calls. She nods and returns her gaze back towards the hills and the smile vanishes. Nothing can last forever. Not even this.

****************

February 26, 2008

I don't want to let him go. I don't want to say goodbye.

"I don't know when I'll be able to get here again," I say and he nods. "I don't know when I'll see you again."

"Soon," he whispers, kissing me on the forehead. The damn gate attendant just called one more time and I know she's staring at me. If she were me, she wouldn't want to leave, either.

"Promise?"

"I'll try."

That's the best we ever seem to be able to do but right now, I'll take it. I have no other choice.

"I have to go," I say, fighting the painful knot that starts in my stomach and moves up into my chest.

"I know," he says, kissing me one last time before letting me go. I miss the feel of him as soon as I step away. The feel. The scent. All of him. "Mac?"

"Yeah?" I ask. The gate attendant calls one more time, her voice sharper now.

"Give May a big kiss for me when you see her, okay?" He looks away from me and towards the window before I can give him an answer.

"Of course I will," I say and I fight the urge to hug him one last time. "Think about it. Please? Think about coming back."

"I will," he says, standing there so straight with his hands behind his back. "You better go."

"I know. I love you," I say, walking backwards to the gate. He finally turns to face me, so many emotions crossing his face that I can't even pick one out.

"Love you, too," he says.

I turn around and rush to the plane before I change my mind about ever going home again.

**********

PART XI

September 14, 2010

"Where have the bodies been taken to?" I ask Sergeant Janson as soon as May is gone. She cried when Janson's daughter came to pick her up but she doesn't need to be hearing any of this.

"Bodies?"

"I assumed . . ."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Brumby. I didn't mean to imply that. All we found was a wreckage. A damaged plane. No bodies were recovered," Janson says, looking confused.

"I don't understand. If they aren't there, where are they?" I ask and Janson looks down at his feet.

"We're still trying to determine that, Mr. Brumby. There's a lot of land out there and with the storms over the last few days, our search has been slow to say the least. But we haven't given up," he says, finally making eye contact with me.

"I would hope not. That's my wife out there," I say, looking out the window towards the street. Somewhere out there, Sarah is cold and wet. And she's with him.

The good thing about that is I know without a doubt that he would never let anything happen to her. I know she's safe and he'll do anything in his power to keep her that way.

The bad thing about it is . . . she's with him. He'll keep her safe and I hate him for it. If it weren't for him, none of us would be happening.

Of course, it can't be all his fault. She did go willingly. All these years, she went with him and I'm sure he didn't have to do much to persuade her. Damn him. Damn both of them.

I should have known I'd never be enough for her. Should have known she'd never give him up for me. I was a blind and stupid ass.

"Mr. Brumby, if you would like to come with us, we were going to start searching a different area of the park. You can stay here if you would be more comfortable . . ."

"I'm going with," I say and he just nods. I want to go with because if Harmon Rabb's not dead, I might have to kill him myself.

****************

August 29, 2008

"Hey, stranger."

Those two words are enough to make my heart beat hard inside my chest. Actually, it isn't the words but the voice. I haven't heard it in person for a while now and although I've spent months trying to convince myself that things would be different when I heard it again, I know better.

I swallow hard and look up from my computer, unable to contain my grin. I know anything I say is going to come out in a big stammer. "Hey! I didn't know you were coming . . . when did you get back? What are you doing here?"

"This morning," Harm answers, still standing in my doorway, looking like he doesn't know whether to come or go.

"You didn't tell me? Is something wrong?" I ask, trying to stop my hands from shaking as I push aside my paperwork. I motion for him to come in and he looks around before finally taking a seat across from me.

"No, nothing is wrong. I just wanted to talk to the Admiral about a few things," he answers.

"And to surprise me? You certainly succeeded at that. I wish you would have told me so I could've cleared off my desk for this afternoon. We could have gone to lunch," I start to say but stop, knowing that lunch would never be enough. Our eyes meet and I know he's thinking the same thing. "Umm . . . let's see here. When do you have to go back? Are you going to at least be here tonight? I can see what I can arrange for tomorrow and . . . hey, if you're here for the weekend, we're having a little get together for the holiday weekend."

I'm babbling now. My hands are in motion as I try to figure out what I'm going to say next and how I'm going to keep this looking like a casual conversation between old co-workers.

"Well, it depends on what the Admiral has to say, but I might be here for a while so don't rush on that paperwork," he says, looking away from me.

"What?"

"I'm thinking about what we talked about. About coming back here," he continues and I lean back in my chair, trying to think this through.

Over the years, since this began, I've reconciled and rationalized so many things. Now, this is part of my life. I love Harm. And a part of me loves Mic. I just don't know how to have everything I want.

Or maybe I'm too afraid to.

"Aren't you were happy there? Why would you come back?" He doesn't give me any answers right away. His eyes dart around my office again and never really land on me. That might give away too much and although I'm certain I'm the reason he's coming back, I'm not certain Harm could ever admit to it.

"I miss flying," is all he gives me. I just nod my head in reply.

*************

September 1, 2008

I stay in my car, letting the engine run while I change the radio station a few times, finally settling on an Orioles game. I sit and watch her house. Their house.

I came back just in time for Labor Day picnic with the Brumby family. I wanted to turn down the invitation simply because I'm not sure I'm ready to go back into her house after what happened the last time I was in her house, but then changed my mind. What reason would I have to decline it?

I shouldn't have any reasons. People would never suspect that I have any reason to avoid Mac or Mic. No one has ever said anything in all these years. Yet, it's hard to go in and face the man whose wife I . . . I don't even know what it is. It used to not bother me but now, after all these years, this whole thing is getting harder to face. I have to come home and face it. Running from it certainly didn't help matters any.

Someone tries the door handle and I jump in my seat. Mac bends down and looks at me through the window, an expression of concern crossing her face. I unlock the door and she climbs in but doesn't face me. Now she's staring at her house, too. Her tan legs are stretched out in front of her and I can smell the suntan lotion she has on.

"You have nothing to feel guilty about," she finally says, but she still doesn't look my way. She does  
September 14, 2010

I follow behind the search party as they make their way up a mountain path on foot. Someone makes a comment about some shed that belongs to some old guy from town that the park service keeps taking down but he keeps putting right back up. Maybe the 'victims' are there.

Victims. Survivors. They keep changing the name as we go along and I'm not sure who's the real victim here anymore. And I'm really not sure who's going to survive.

Sergeant Janson falls behind the search and rescue team and the park rangers and walks beside me.

"If they survived the crash, the next biggest problem will be surviving the elements. I'm assuming since they're both in the military, they have enough survival training to get them by?" he asks, looking at me with sympathetic eyes.

"Captain Rabb was a fighter pilot. He's been in some pretty bad situations before. And Sarah, she's a Marine," I say. That's all I have to say. She's a Marine and she'll make it through this.

"Good. Good. I'm pretty sure we'll find them today. The moon's still bright . . ." he starts to say and then the ringing of my cell phone interrupts him. "I remember the days when those things didn't work out in the woods."

"Yeah," I say and he walks away, giving me some privacy.

"Brumby here," I say and immediately someone is barking in my ear.

"I told you to keep me in the loop, Brumby!" I cringe at the sound of Admiral Chegwidden's voice. I don't thinks he's as upset at me as he sounds but rather upset over the lack of control any of us have in this situation.

"I'm sorry. It's been . . . it's been quite an ordeal, sir," I say and I'm met with silence.

"I'm sorry, too. It's just that two of my senior officers have been missing for days now and no one can tell me a damn thing. Are those people they have searching for them going to find them? What can you tell me about the situation?" he asks.

"All I know is they weren't dead when the plane crashed. There were no bodies recovered from the crash site. We're searching the surrounding area for them now and some people from the local PD and the park rangers are working together on it. It's just a matter of time," I say, looking up towards the sky. It looks like it might rain again soon. I pray that it holds off until we find them. Out of all of this, God could at least give me that much.

"Brumby . . . Mic . . . I just . . ."

"Let's not worry about that now, sir. We don't know anything yet," I say, shuddering at my lie. He doesn't have to know what I do. He doesn't need to know about all the little planes hidden in a box in Sarah's closet. For all he knows, Harm and Sarah were just up flying. I don't need to deal with anything else at the moment, especially the UCMJ.

"I hate to say this Brumby, but right now, she's with the best possible . . ."

"I know that, sir," I say cutting him off. I've fallen behind the rest of the group and am going to have to end this soon if I hope to catch up. "I'm sorry I didn't call you before I left home. I'll keep you up to date with anything else."

"Please do," he says and I know he wants to say something else but he isn't sure what that should be so I save him the trouble.

"I really have to go. I'll call when we find out more," I say, hanging up before he can say anything else. I tuck my phone back into my pocket and hurry to catch up with the search party.

**************

June 6, 2009

I never considered what I'd do when it was over. How I would feel not hearing his voice for months on end and what it would be like realizing he was never coming back to me.

Now I know. I try to spend my days immersing myself into my work and my child. I focus on rebuilding this marriage I'm in which isn't easy because Mic doesn't even know it needs rebuilding. All these years he has thought I was perfectly happy and content. He never would have guessed at what was actually going on.

I know I have to tell Mic someday. I'll have to tell him all of it, including what I know about May, and then face the consequences. I have no idea what he'll do. I don't know if he'll stay or go.

Today isn't the day to tell him. I stare at myself in the mirror, all dressed up for a banquet we have to attend. At least it isn't one of mine but rather it's for him. I don't feel like putting on a happy face for the people I know and his friends and colleagues usually just smile at me and nod. I'm not in their corporate world and they never know quite what to make of me.

I smooth my hand over the front of my dress and then run my fingers through my hair. No one would ever guess I just spent an hour crying in the shower. Not even Mic could tell. He was too busy with May and the sitter we hired for the evening.

Closing my eyes, I steel my mind against the thoughts that keep trying to creep in. I can hear his words so clearly still. I can hear Harm asking me to leave Mic for him. I can hear him and feel him and taste him . . .

"You ready, luv?" Mic asks, putting his hand on my shoulder. He shakes me from my thoughts and I jump at his touch.

"Yes, I'm ready," I say, looking at our reflection in the mirror. He runs his hand down my arm, still touching me like he did years ago, still looking like he could never love anyone as much as he loves me.

I have to look away from the reflection before it makes me cry. I can't start crying again.

"You okay, Sarah?" he asks and I nod, my eyes looking up to meet his again in the mirror. "You've been so unhappy lately. I thought if we stayed in the States, you'd be happier than you are."

Surely he must suspect that right now it has nothing to do with living in Australia or America. My husband can't be that stupid. He knew that Rabb was supposed to come back and didn't. Everybody must know it.

"I'm just tired, Mic. Work . . . I thought I was getting help," I say with a weak smile, trying to lower what he was going to be to me to lowest possible station that I can.

"Since Captain Rabb seems so happy where he is, maybe you can talk to the Admiral about bringing someone else on staff. You need to spend more time with your family. At least until you're over these blues," he says and I nod. That's all I've done lately. Work and spend time with Mic and May. That's all there is keeping me going right now.

"I'll talk to him Monday. I just don't want to appear weak," I say, sniffling. God, if I go in like this, he'll think I'm not only weak but crazy.

"I don't think anyone will ever think Sarah MacKenzie is weak," Mic says, turning me around and wrapping me in his embrace.

**************

She steps out of the golf cart, shading her eyes with her hand for a second as she takes a look at the harbor below.

"It's a beautiful place, Harm. I can see why you don't want to leave," she says, giving me a quick smirk before she moves out of sight.

"Who would want to leave paradise?" I ask, also getting out of the cart and following her to the golf bags strapped on the back.

"Apparently, not you," she says again, carefully selecting the right club for the shot. I watch her as she ambles up to the tee, sets her golf ball on it and lines up her swing. She hasn't used the women's tee off position once since we started playing. I didn't think she would.

"See, Senator, I had to move out here in order to get you to visit me. All those years in DC and you only showed up when work was involved," I say and Bobbi Latham turns to me, losing her focus on the ball.

"What makes you think this isn't about work?" she asks before returning her eye to the ball and swinging at it hard. Both of our eyes follow it as it arcs down the green and lands in the perfect spot. She's much better at this than I am. If she were to be playing alone, she'd be done by now.

I get the feeling she doesn't want to play alone today. It's much more fun to play with me when she's in one of these moods.

"I'm sure it's about work. I doubt you, a full member of the U.S. Senate Committee on Armed Services, would be in Pearl Harbor for the relaxing view. By the way, did I ever say congratulations on winning a seat on the Senate?" I say, knowing full well that I had not. She doesn't answer, but instead circles around me as I line up my shot and take it. My ball lands somewhere in the rough quite a distance short of hers. Damn, I need more practice.

"You could have at least sent flowers. Or a card," she says and I just shrug my shoulders as we get back into the cart and move in the direction of our balls.

"I was probably busy. Looking at the view. Enjoying paradise," I say, nodding towards Pearl Harbor and the naval station.

"This happened before you left DC and you know it. One of these days I'm going to figure out why your head was so far up your six that you didn't even notice," she says and I tighten my grip on the steering wheel. I've been trying to forget why that was so. Bobbi showing up only serves as a reminder of the life I apparently walked away from.

We get out of the cart again near the rough where my ball landed. She stands off to the side, her arms crossed over her chest as she watches me set up my shot. She has some smug smile of gratification on her face and I'm not sure whether it's due to the fact that she's a better shot than I am or something else.

Once my ball is ahead of hers and we get back in the cart, I finally ask.

"What business brings you out here, Bobbi?"

I should have asked when she first showed up at my office yesterday afternoon but she was in and out so fast we barely had time to arrange a meeting for today. It was only this morning that I discovered it would be at the country club.

"The business of bringing you back to DC," she says with a smile as we chase her ball down the green.

******************

I watch as my husband proudly accepts his award and makes a short speech. I listen to him thank me and tell a room full of people that he couldn't have done any of this without my love and support. I can almost feel my heart break as he looks at me and smiles, happy that I'm the one he's going home with from here.

Damn him. I wish he would just hate me or be mean to me or do anything that would make me feel that I was just for the things I've done to him all these years. Not just the affair, but May. I should have told him years ago instead of living some soap opera drama of paternity questions and lies. Love makes you do stupid things. Mic shakes the hand of some fancy DC lawyer and then exits the stage, the smile never leaving his face as he sits down next to me again.

"How'd I do?" he asks, his eyes searching mine.

"You did great, Mic. It was a beautiful speech. Thank you," I say, unable to hold his stare any longer.

"I meant every word of it, luv. Without you, I don't know where I'd be right now. Probably not even on this continent," he says with a quick laugh. His hand covers mine as we listen to the presentation wrap up and the host invite us to dance our hearts out for the rest of the evening. The orchestra quickly starts playing some big band number and couples leave their tables, everybody looking so happy.

I watch as he stands up and presents me his hand.

"Come dance with me, Sarah."

I put my hand in his as he leads me to the dance floor. It's crowded but Mic looks at me as if there's not another person in the world. In his eyes, maybe that's the case. I just wish with all my heart I felt the same way about him.

I can pretend for just one night that there has never been anyone else. It's the least I can do for him. I smile and focus only on him, suppressing any other thoughts that might want to trickle into my mind.

If I can do this for one night, I can do it for two. And then three. And then for the rest of my life.

"It really was a beautiful speech," I say again and that makes him smile brightly. It takes so little to make Mic happy. All these years and it's only taken me to make him happy. Thousands of miles from his home and he's still happy because I'm here and May is here.

And I can't fight the feeling that I'd throw this away in a heartbeat if Harm would just come back to me. But he isn't. He's made that clear. Whatever happened between us must have scared him off. How typical.

So now I will get through one day and then two days and I will get over this.

Mic leans closer and kisses me gently and I respond. He deserves all my attention at least for tonight.

******************

"There's someone in DC who would make a perfectly fine JAG, so I don't have any clue why you came all this way . . . besides the fact that I can't believe you wouldn't be pushing for a woman to have that chair," I say, taking a sip of my wine and looking away from her. Bobbi's been watching me with this funny smirk all afternoon and I'd wish she'd stop.

"I would like the most qualified person in that chair," she says and I turn to her, my eyebrow raised at her comment. "Male or female. But in order for that to happen, the most qualified male has to appear at least a bit interested."

"I didn't think Admiral Chegwidden planned on retiring for several more years. Why concern yourself with this now?" I ask and she leans back in her chair and ponders the question. "For that matter, why concern yourself with it at all? Now that you're a Senator, I would think you have better things to be concerned with."

"The SECNAV is just curious . . ."

"Is he now?" I ask, finding that hard to believe. Secretary Nelson retired due to health complications shortly after I transferred to Pearl Harbor, but I always assumed he warned his successor about me.

"Yes, he is. He and I have been discussing this and he thinks eventually you'd be the perfect candidate. Even though you're hiding out in Hawaii," she says, finishing up her wine. I offer her more from the bottle at our table and she accepts.

"I don't know why you think I'm hiding here. You keep saying that," I say and practically rolls her eyes at me.

"Captain Rabb, you're hiding. I don't know from what but I doubt you've ever hidden from anything in your life before this," she says and I look away. She doesn't have to know why I decided to stay here. It wouldn't make any sense to her anyway. It has nothing to do with career motivations and I'm not sure Bobbi understands anything outside of the realm of one's career.

"I've hidden before," I say, looking straight at her.

"After you lost your wings?" she asks and I nod.

"My grandmother's farm. I spent some time restoring a plane my dad bought when I was a kid and I spent a lot of time thinking," I say with a sigh. I miss my plane and not just because I miss flying it.

"Well, you didn't crash into anything before you transferred here. I'm sorry about your mother, but I don't think that's enough of a reason for you to stay here this long. And most of all, I know you're hiding from something because you were in to see Admiral Chegwidden just last September about coming back to JAG HQ. So I have to figure out what happened after you took that meeting," she says with a certain glint in her eyes that lets me know she just isn't going to let this go.

"Nothing happened," I say, trying my best to lie. "I'm needed here."

"You don't have some island girl living with you, do you?" she asks and I laugh.

"No! I haven't lived with anyone in years," I say as I try to turn this whole thing around. "How about you? How come there's no Mr. Senator Latham right now?"

It's her turn to squirm just a little. "Never met the right guy," she says, dismissing me with a wave of her hand.

"Really?" I ask and she laughs.

"Or else he never asked," she adds, looking squarely at me. I shift my glance elsewhere, trying to figure out just what to say. I like Bobbi. I always have. She's fun to be around and great in bed. It was just never going to go anywhere and we both knew it. Maybe that's why she's here on this 'working' vacation of hers. Maybe it has nothing to do with getting me back to DC so much as it has to do with having a good time for a few days.

Sex without life changing consequences. Now that's an idea I haven't had the pleasure of experimenting with for a long time.

"Where are you staying?" I ask and that catches her attention.

"Why do you care?"

"I care," I say and she smiles.

"I'm staying at Halekulani," she finally answers and I whistle in appreciation.

"And here I thought you were working and would be staying at the BOQ . . ."

"Right," she says laughing at the thought. "Don't worry. The taxpayers aren't subsidizing my hotel costs. I'm footing the bill myself. Besides, this way, no one will see me coming . . . or going."

"Or me . . . coming? Or going?" I ask and she smiles.

"Except for me, of course," she adds and we both laugh.

*************

June 7, 2009

He moves above me. Easily. Comfortably. The passion that was there at the beginning has been replaced with a simple familiarity and I know there's nothing wrong with this, that it's just the way things work. But there's always something missing or else it's that I know what that something is.

Always an attentive lover, he makes sure that it feels just as good for me as it does for him. The problem is I don't want to feel good right now. Not like this. My desire to be with him is fighting with my desire to just roll over and go to sleep until everything is better.

Mic finishes up and eases out of my body, nestling beside me. His breathing is still strained and he's probably exhausted by now but his fingers dance over my body. I feel his eyes studying me as he traces my curves and rubs his palm up and over my hip.

"I really wish I could make you happier, Sarah," he says, his voice breaking the quiet of the night.

I turn to him and he wraps me in his arms. "I'm sorry, Mic. It's not you. Really, it isn't. I'm just going through the blues right now and I don't know why," I lie and he takes in a deep breath.

"Do you need to get help?" he asks and I shake my head.

"No. It will pass. It always does," I say and he brushes his hand appreciatively across my cheek.

"You're so beautiful, Sarah MacKenzie. Sometimes I still can't believe you're mine," he says and I want to take issue with him. I'm not his. I'm not anybody's. I'm May's mommy and his wife, but I'm also me.

But I'm too tired to fight about it right now. It always hurts the most in the middle of the night, when the darkness brings out old insecurities I thought I conquered years ago. He said he'd be back by now. He asked me to leave my husband. Then he never showed up. Did I expect any different? No, not really. He always was so scared of letting go.

It's better this way, I tell myself. He's obviously happy wherever he is and my family is intact. I don't have to explain my actions over the last few years. There would be so many people I'd have to explain them to outside of my family. Maybe that's what scared Harm. He'd look bad and it would tarnish those gold wings of his.

Bastard.

I look into Mic's eyes and say it in my head again. The same words over and over, constantly telling myself it's better this way. It's better this way. Soon Mic's eyes flutter shut, sleep overtaking him and I free myself from his arms.

Opening my closet door, I pull down a box from the corner and open it quietly. All the little notes are still in there, the paper carefully and neatly folded into tiny planes. I should throw them all out right now. I should take them outside and bury them in the trash.

I leave our bedroom, box in hand, and make my way down the stairs. I stop in the kitchen and look at them one last time. I didn't realize there were so many. Not that there are hundreds of them but from one person's perspective, it would be quite a lot. Then again, to Mic, one would be too many.

I unfold the first one, careful not to bend the wings, and I brush my fingers over the words.

Come fly with me. Who the hell did he think he was? Sinatra? I fight the urge to laugh as I fold it up neatly and tuck it back in the box. They all say the same thing.

Come fly with me. Come fly with me. Over and over come fly with me.

And even though I hate him, I know if he tucked a note into the palm of my hand again, I'd follow. I'd fly with him anywhere.

I shake the thought from my head. He can't have that power over me. I can't allow it. He said he'd be back and he didn't come back. He didn't want to fly with me again. I checked days ago to see if there was something holding up his transfer from the trial services office and there was nothing. Just the fact that he's the same scared person he's always been.

I cram the lid on the box, ready to take it out to the garbage when the first bolt of lightning shatters the black sky and a crash of thunder rumbles through the air. The rain follows quickly and I find myself pressed against the French doors, watching it.

It usually rained when we had to part. How fitting that it would rain now. I clutch onto the box, knowing that I'm not going to throw them away. It's not the biggest or the most important thing I have from him but it's something.

*************

Mac was worried about me meeting someone new. I never asked about someone from my past. Bobbi moves over me and I try to separate my mind from my body and just enjoy this. It's not Mac but I threw that away myself. This is Bobbi and it feels damn good and like always, she doesn't expect anything from me afterwards. And I expect nothing from her.

Her hands hold on tight to the headboard as she moves up and down, taking me into her body with ease. My hands move from her waist to her breasts and she leans into my touch, moaning with pleasure.

The only light in the room comes from the full moon shining brightly through the curtains we didn't bother to pull shut. There's just one thing past her balcony and that's the ocean. No one is watching us from there. No one would even care. Her body is awash in the blue moonlight and I can make out clearly that she's smiling down at me.

"Good?" she asks.

"Very," I say, smiling back at her. It's been over ten years since we've been together but for some reason, it was almost easier to fall back into bed with her than it has ever been with Mac. Perhaps it's the lack of emotions behind it. Or the fact that this isn't love. This is sex with a friend who will be gone on Monday.

She tightens her muscles around me and I stop thinking about friends and sex . . . except for this one friend who's doing incredible things to me with her body. It doesn't take long until I grunt out my release and she soon follows, her body shaking above mine as her orgasm ripples through her. Bobbi has never been a quiet one and I wait for a pounding on the wall that thankfully never comes.

I hold onto the condom as she slides off, falling onto the bed beside me.

"God, I've missed that," she says and I don't know whether she means fucking or me or fucking me. It doesn't really matter right now. It was as good as I remembered it to be and now I'm exhausted.

"I'll be right back," I say, getting out of the warmth of the bed to toss the condom into the bathroom wastebasket. When I return, she's sitting up against the headboard, waiting for me. The room is scented heavily of sex and of the ocean, salty and heavy in the air.

"So, it's not a woman keeping you here," she says as I climb back into bed.

"How do you know that?" I ask, looking up at her as she continues to work this through her mind.

"Because I know you, Harm. You wouldn't be here in bed with me if there was someone else. You're far too noble for that," she says and I roll over and stare at the ceiling. "So it comes down to this -- there's someone you're avoiding back in DC."

"How do you know I'm not avoiding you?" I ask and she laughs.

"Once again because you wouldn't be here in bed with me if that as it. Harm . . ." she starts but stops to think about her next question.

"What?"

"Will you tell me someday?" she asks and I shake my head.

"Probably not," I say and she settles down beside me.

"I'll have to figure it out myself, then," she says and I pull her into my arms. Parts of this shouldn't be too hard to figure out. She's a smart woman. I half suspect she already knows but she's just waiting for me to slip up.

Or she's waiting for me to figure out exactly what the hell I'm doing and I'm not even sure I can.

*************

I wake up to the sound of laughter coming from downstairs. Mic is out of our bed and I look at the clock. It's after 10 a.m. and May has probably been up for hours. They usually trash the kitchen and make pancakes together on Sunday, letting me sleep in. Considering I didn't fall asleep until just a few hours ago, I'm thankful for it.

I pull on my bathrobe and go downstairs just in time to catch Mic trying to teach May to crack an egg without the entire shell ending up in the mixing bowl. The two of them are laughing as he struggles to pick the shells out of the mixture.

"Hi, Mommy!" May exclaims, climbing down from the chair she's standing on and rushing over to me. "We're making pancakes for you!"

She says it with the glee that only a five year old could have over pancakes filled with egg shells and then she smiles up at me. Her smile always captures my heart even further and I can't be sad with her around. It doesn't matter where she came from. She's my baby.

"Good, because you know what I could really use?" I ask, picking her up in my arms. She wraps her arms around my neck as we walk back to the counter where Mic is still trying to get all of the shell out of the bowl.

"What?" she asks.

"I could really use some pancakes made by your sweet little hands," I say and she laughs, leaning in to kiss me on the cheek.

I put her back on her chair and she gets to stir the mix while Mic pours it onto the hot griddle.

"Know what I could really use, Mommy?" May asks and I assume she's going to tell me about the newest Barbie doll or perhaps that kitchen set she keeps asking for.

"What could you use, sweetheart?"

"A baby sister!" she says with glee and Mic and I both nearly choke. "Can't you go to the hospital and pick one out for me?"

"Luv, it's not quite that easy," Mic answers, his eyes meeting mine, pleading with me to come up with something to tell her, too.

"All my friends have brothers and sisters. I'm the only one who doesn't," she says with a pout.

"Honey, it's really not that easy," I say and she doesn't look happy with that answer. Mic is staring at me now. Does he want an answer about why she's an only child, too? I can't give it to him.

"Can you think about it?" she says as if she's asking us for a puppy and I can't find the words to say.

"Sure, luv. Mum and Dad will think about it. Now run along and play while I finish up your breakfast," Mic says and May scurries off to the living room. I hear the TV turn on and the channel flip to some children's programming.

"That was interesting," I say, opening the refrigerator and pouring myself a glass of juice. Mic flips the pancakes and then stands behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist.

"How 'bout it, Sarah. You want to try to have another one?" he asks and the taste of the juice grows sour in my mouth. All these years I've always used my career as an excuse as to why I didn't have another baby. It's the only excuse I've got.

"No, Mic. I'm happy with just May. Besides, at my age . . ."

"Your age what? Women at your age have babies all the time and you know it. Next you're going to use your career as your excuse. I think we should really think about it. I'd love another baby," he says and I pull away from him.

"Then you figure out how to have one without me having to carry it around for nine months," I say and he looks hurt.

"Are you afraid to go through what we went through the first time?" he asks and I look away. I remember all too clearly the months of frustration and tears. I remember how every month I would cry when I found out I wasn't pregnant. This time, I know there would be no end to it.

"Mic, I'm happy. You and May are all I need and I do have my career and you know it. Everything is perfect right now," I lie, hoping he can't tell.

He pulls the pancakes off the griddle and gets them ready for May while I lean against the counter, watching him.

"As long as you're sure. I don't want you to regret this later," he says and I smile.

"I won't regret it. Trust me," I say, knowing this is one of the few things in life I won't ever regret.

*****************

Bobbi finds me on the balcony overlooking the ocean. The sun is high in the late morning sky and I can't believe we slept for so long. She tightens the belt on her robe, opens the sliding glass door and steps out of the room.

"Good morning, sailor," she jokes, sliding her arm into the crook of mine. "I ordered some breakfast. I thought you might be hungry."

With that, a man rolls a cart out onto the balcony and begins to set the small table. We both watch until he's done and then I pull some bills from my pocket and tip him before he departs.

"This looks good," I say. We both sit and I pour juice into our glasses. That's all she takes, the juice and a few chunks of pineapple, while I dig into the eggs.

"I had a nice time last night," she says between sips and I know I'm blushing. Bobbi always had a habit of making me blush the next day.

"So, um, did I," I mumble, chasing the eggs down with some juice.

"Good. Now maybe you can get over her and come home," she says and I nearly choke.

"What?" I ask when I can finally speak.

"Get over her, Harm. Don't ruin your career over this. Come home. Become the next JAG. Meet other women. Fall in love and get married yourself. But don't ruin yourself or her over this," she says, never taking her eyes off of me.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I say, wiping my mouth with my napkin and settling back in my chair.

"Sure you do. I was only guessing until you choked right there, but I say it was a pretty good guess," she says, looking quite satisfied with herself.

"Always the politician, huh? Get what you need out of someone by any means necessary?" I ask and she shrugs her shoulders.

"I've been in love with someone I couldn't have before. I know how bad it is, but I had to move on or it was going to kill me. I saw Mac last month when I was in Falls Church and she looked like hell, Harm. And so do you. The two of you need to move on or move forward but you can't just run away from her or your life or your job," she says and I look away, staring out over the ocean.

"I've moved on and she moved on years ago. She's the one who got married," I say and Bobbi doesn't say anything for a long time.

"I wish . . ." she starts to say but stops when I turn to face her again.

"What?"

"I wish someone loved me like that. Two men at that, both in love with her. And I have none. Makes me wonder where I went wrong," she says and then laughs. "Or maybe where I didn't go wrong considering that's a mess I would want to avoid at all costs."

"That's what I'm doing," I say and she looks at me with a questioning glance.

"What are you doing?"

"Avoiding the mess at all costs," I say and she rolls her eyes at me.

"It's too late, Harm. You're in this mess and you're in deep. You might as well go home and face it," she says and I just nod.

***************

PART XIII

September 14, 2010

One of the rescue workers takes out his GPS and a map and compares the two again. Darkness is setting in and no one has discussed whether we're heading back tonight or continuing on and setting up camp somewhere.

"They couldn't have made it this far," the guy with the maps says, looking around the woods that we're deep into the middle of now.

"Why not, mate?" I ask and he shakes his head.

"I'd assume with their training, they'd head out of the woods, not deeper into the woods," he says, showing me on the map exactly how far from the edge of the woods we are.

"You've searched the edge of the park, though, right?" I ask and he nods his head, pointing to the map and tracing a line with his finger.

"That whole area has been covered by foot. This area has been covered by air. We've had hikers lost in these woods before. And children. We always found them in less time than this is taking," he says, sounding tired and aggravated. I feel the way he sounds. I don't know where in the hell they could be and why they didn't stay with the plane.

"Maybe they were disoriented from the crash and went the wrong way. Captain Rabb is an experienced pilot and he's been in plane crashes before and survived. He wouldn't put their lives in danger on purpose," I say, trying as hard as I can to even get his name past my tongue again.

"People do strange things when they're . . . well, when they're trying to . . ." the man starts to say and can't finish it out loud. I know what they're all thinking. Why wouldn't they? If I were them, I'd be thinking it, too.

"Hide something?" I ask and the man sheepishly looks to the ground.

"Hey, listen man. I know it's none of my business. . ." he says and I interrupt him before he can get out another word.

"Too right. It isn't any of your business. Your job is to find my wife and her co-worker and you're all doing a poor job of it," I say, walking away from him, trying to fight back the tears.

He's right. What if they did something stupid? What if . . .

No. Sarah is smarter than that. She knows that we can work out anything. Even this. We can even work through this.

"Let's look for that cabin or shed or whatever you said was around here," I call back to the man and he follows me in silence.

*************

December 22, 2009

She doesn't even look at me for half a second before the word 'no' comes tumbling out of her mouth.

"No, what? I didn't even ask -" I start to say but she puts her hands up in a defensive gesture, stopping me mid sentence. JAG Headquarters is nearly deserted, most of the staff either gone for holiday leave or gone because of the hour. She's the only senior staff member here.

"No, Rabb. No to everything you might say. Just . . . no," she says and I back up out of her office without saying another word. I expected this. I expected worse than this, actually, and maybe that's why I showed up at the office and not at her house. I know Brumby and the kid are gone, visiting his family in Australia for the holidays until Christmas Eve day. Harriet let that slip on the phone earlier today.

Without stopping to look back, I go down the elevator and out the front door. It's so damn cold here and the snow just keeps falling. I knew there was a reason I stayed so long in Hawaii beyond all the other reasons. Judging from what just happened, maybe I should have stayed there forever.

I pull my gloves out of my pocket and in the process, drop my keys in the snow. The snow is falling so fast now I think they've given up on keeping the parking lot cleared.

"Damn it," I mutter.

"Damn it is right. Why did you come back now?" I hear from behind me. I turn around to find Mac shivering in the cold. She must have rushed out of the building so fast, she didn't stop to grab her coat.

"Jesus, Mac. You're going to freeze," I say, starting to take my coat off to give her.

"Don't. I don't need your damn coat," she says, putting her hands up to stop me. Something deep inside of me wants to keep her warm and I grab her hands but she jerks them away quickly. "I won't freeze."

"What are you doing out here?" I ask, looking towards the building. "We could go inside and talk. That way neither of us will freeze."

"Yeah, this must be rough on you after all that time in Hawaii," she says, her voice flat and devoid of much emotion.

"That has nothing to do with it. I don't want you . . ."

"Don't want me to what? Since when did you care so much about my well being?" she asks, her eyes searching mine. Whatever emotions her voice is lacking can all be found welling up in her eyes.

"Mac, I've always cared. Why do you think I didn't come back?" I ask and now her eyes fire up.

"You're going to blame that on my well being? Only you would sink so low as to tell me to leave my husband and then blame me when you couldn't follow through!" she says a little louder than she should have and I look around the parking lot to see if anyone heard. Thankfully, no one is anywhere near us and I doubt anyone could hear over the wind.

"Could we at least get in the car and talk about this?" I ask and she looks at me as if I'm insane. "If you don't want to go inside it's the next best alternative. Come on, Mac. I'm freezing."

She just nods and watches as I dig my keys out of the snow. I'm inside already with the engine started and the heat going before she walks around to the passenger side and climbs in. We sit in silence for several minutes before I speak.

"I'm sorry, Mac. I'm sorry for what I did. I should have said something . . . should've called," I say and she closes her eyes, taking a deep breath.

"Is that supposed to make it all better?" she asks and I know nothing will make this better except time.

"No," I respond and I can tell she's fighting everything she really wants to say to me. Fighting and losing. Mac was never one to hold it all in with me and I don't want her to now. Not after everything we've been through and everything we are . . . or were to each other.

"Sorry isn't going to make it all better. Harm, you told me to leave Mic for you and I would have. In a heartbeat, I would've throw it all away for you. My marriage. My family. Hell, I'd even toss in the career and give that up for you, too," she says, her emotions finally coming undone. "And then . . . then you didn't come back. Didn't call. I didn't hear from you for so long and . . . damn you. Just damn you."

***************

Before I can stop myself, I'm swinging my fists at him. I hit him hard and fast and it takes him a moment to grab my wrists. He holds them tight and now I start crying. I can't help it. I'm so angry at him for not ever wanting me enough and for never being able to let go of whatever the hell it is holding back.

I look at him through the tears and just once I wish he'd cry about this. I've cried so many tears over him and this thing we're caught up in and I'm not sure he's shed even one. He's come close and I listened to him when he called crying about his mother. I've watched him cry in the past. I know he's capable of it.

He just won't let go.

Harm is still holding on to my wrists, his fingers digging into my flesh until it hurts. He doesn't let go when I try to jerk away. He just holds on tighter, pulling me towards him at an impossible angle in this car. He holds me tight and I don't even care who sees us anymore. No one is left working here anyway. Just me, avoiding the holiday blues.

"I'm still sorry. I owe you more than that and we both know it. I got back there and I was afraid of what it would do to us. I didn't want to be the person your kid looked at as destroying her family," he says and I interrupt him before he can go on.

"Without you, there would be no . . ."

"She's too little to see it that way. She has a father that she loves and a family," he says and I feel the anger begin to rise up inside of me again.

"You have no right to protect her now. Or to protect me. You had no right to make that decision on your own and you know it," I say, pulling away from him. He reaches out to wipe a tear off of my face and I pull further away, as close to the door as I can get.

"No, I didn't. I know that now," he says, his voice oh so soft. I told myself never again so many times during these last few months. . . over a year now. I waited for so long and then I said I'd never fall for him again.

Falling for him again assumes I'm over him in the first place. I look out the window at the snow still floating down around us and I sigh. I've never been over him. No matter what I tell myself, I still love him.

"She's getting older. She'd understand," I say, knowing it's not true. I don't even understand all of this. It would be impossible for my daughter to comprehend any of it.

"Mac, I lost my father when . . ."

"She wouldn't be losing her father . . ."

"Yes, she would. Everything she knows would change. Her whole world would just fall apart," he says and I shake my head at him.

"One would think you would understand most of all, Harm. One would think after all those years you spent without your father that you would want to be there for her. What are you scared of?" I ask and he sighs. I know what he's afraid of. I know what he always has been afraid of. "You're afraid that if you get to close, you'll disappear just like your dad. Well, Harm, that's a crappy way to live your life."

"I never said it wasn't," he says and I sit back up in the passenger seat.

"Then stop living like this," I say, squeezing his fingers that are still holding on to mine.

"I can't."

"And I can't keep on living like this, Harm," I say, pulling my hand free of his and wiping my tears away. "I can't keep choosing one thing only to have you run away from it."

"I know that," he says and we both sit in an uncomfortable silence for a long while. "I need to tell you that I'm going to be back in this office."

"Why now?" I ask and he doesn't seem to have an answer.

"Because the weather here is so much better than it is in Hawaii?" he finally says and I laugh just a little.

I look at my watch and shake my head. We've been sitting out here longer than I would have ever imagined and I'm going to be late for an appointment I have this evening. It's something I have to do before Christmas.

"I really have to go. I have to pick up May's present tonight," I say and Harm just watches me.

"What are you getting her?" he asks and now I stare at him.

"Do you want to be a part of her life or not?" I ask and he looks torn.

"I want to always be a part of your life. To at least be your friend," he says and I'm not sure those are the words my heart wanted to hear. I'll have to take it for now because I'm certain Harmon Rabb can't ever be more. He won't let himself.

"I have to pick up the puppy we bought for her," I say, looking at my watch again. Mic and I picked the puppy out a few weeks ago and she'll be eight weeks old just in time for Christmas. May has been asking for a puppy for weeks now.

"A puppy?" he asks and I nod.

"She wanted a baby brother or sister . . ." I start to say and notice that he stiffens up in his seat. "I'm not asking for a donation, Harm, I'm just telling you a story. She wanted a baby but she settled on a puppy."

"Would you like for me to go with to pick it up?" he asks and I study him for a second, trying to figure him out. I'm never going to be able to.

"Sure. Let me go back in and get my stuff and then you can follow me home and then we'll take Mic's Land Rover. It will get us through the snow much better than this rental car of yours or my 'Vette," I say, opening the door and stepping out into the cold. It bites my skin and wakes me up just enough to make me wonder what in the hell am I doing.

************

I watch Mac sit on the breeder's living room floor with the Cocker Spaniel puppy bouncing all over her. The woman Mac bought him from has a towel and carpet spray handy which is good because he's wet the floor about five times since we've been her but Mac doesn't seem to care that this dog will be going on her carpet in just a while. Actually, I haven't seen her look this happy since . . . well, for a while.

Mac changed into jeans and a sweater when we stopped by her house but I'm still in my uniform, snow melting off of my trench coat now. From what I can tell, it will be just another wet puddle on this stained carpet.

"Isn't he cute?" Mac asks and then proceeds to talk in baby talk to the animal. He tries to climb up her so he can lick her face but he keeps slipping before he can make it that far. I just stand and watch, wondering how May will feel about her Christmas present. I'll won't get to see the look on her face when she finds out that she's getting a puppy and it hurts for just a second until I shake the feeling away.

The breeder keeps looking at me and I'm sure it's because I'm not the man who was with Mac when she picked out the puppy but she doesn't look like she's quite sure of that fact. She narrows her eyes at me and finally says something. "So, do you think your daughter will love him as much as your wife does?"

My eyes meet Mac's and neither of us knows what to say, most of all me. I stammer something before Mac finally saves me. "Sure she will. Who wouldn't love this face?" she asks, picking up the puppy and nuzzling him close.

The woman still stares at me but talks to Mac. "He eats Iams puppy food. Here, I'll get you a little bag to take home since you might not be able to pick any up with this weather and all," she says before wandering off to the kitchen.

Mac looks up at me and smiles, still cuddling the squirming puppy in her arms. "She's going to love him. Her face when she sees him . . . it's going to . . . I wish you . . ." she starts, and her expression grows distant.

"Mac, don't . . ." I say and she looks away. The puppy must sense something because he climbs up her arms and licks her face.

"I know. But I can still wish for whatever I want," she says, blinking back the tears. I go and kneel down beside her and now the puppy bounds over in my direction, trying to climb up me. I take her hand in mine and put her fingers close to my lips.

"I want things, too," I whisper and she closes her eyes, letting a tear escape down her cheek. She leans against me and the puppy settles in between us.

"Here you are. Enough food for a week," we hear from behind us and we both jump. I go to my feet and the woman gives me a strange look as she hands me a bag of food. She reaches down and picks up the puppy off of Mac's lap and gives the little guy a bunch of kisses while Mac stands up. "You be good for these people, you hear?"

"I'm sure he will be," Mac says, putting her winter coat back on before reaching for the dog. She snuggles him in under the coat and thanks the woman for everything before we head back out into the cold.

************

"You knew this would happen . . ." I say as he tugs my sweater over my head, tossing it on the floor. The puppy jumps on it, trying to turn it into a cozy place to take a nap. He'll probably wet on it yet and . . . oh, God . . . I don't care.

"No, I didn't," Harm says and I can't push his jacket off of his shoulders fast enough. "When you were smacking the crap out of me, I never thought this would happen."

"You deserved it," I say and he smiles at me, his fingers fighting to get my jeans unfastened but he can't quite reach with his jacket wrapped around his elbows.

"I just thought you'd punch harder, being a Marine and all," he says and I give up him the punch he deserves right in the gut.

"Like that?" I ask and he starts to laugh and cough at the same time.

"Yeah. Like that, Marine," he says, shaking his jacket off and onto the floor. More places for the puppy to pee. As soon as he's free of his jacket, he tackles me and pulls me down to the floor. The room is dark except for the soft blinking lights of the Christmas tree. I'd start a fire but it's getting hot enough in here.

The puppy leaps up around us, but Harm pushes him away until he's finally content with just digging through our discarded clothing. We add to the pile quickly, my jeans, bra and underwear ending up somewhere near his shirt. Harm gets out of his shoes and pants quickly and my eyes take in the sight of him.

I always promise myself never ever again is this going to happen and I'm so fucking weak once he's here. I need him as much as I once needed alcohol and I know it's terrible to need someone this much but I just do. I can't help myself. I need him now. I'm always trading one addiction for another and now my addiction is a person that won't let me have him entirely.

He moves over me, pushing my legs apart with his knees and I let him enter me before my brain can begin thinking rationally again. There's no rational thinking about this. There never will be. It's just pure need.

I wrap my legs around his waist as he drives into me. He looks desperate -- nearly as desperate as I feel -- and I fight the urge to ask him if I was the last. He obviously wasn't mine so it would be unfair to expect the same in return. I bite my lip at the thought that there's someone else out there who has had him like this and Harm slows down and watches me.

"Something wrong?" he asks, his voice strained.

"Beyond the obvious?"

"Yeah . . ." he says, struggling to maintain this stillness. His body is winning our over his mind and he thrusts into me again, slow and hard.

"Nothing. Nothing that matters right now," I say, moving so I can put my hand on his cheek. He sighs and begins to slide in and out of my body again, my hips moving to meet every stroke.

I turn my head to find the puppy staring at us from his pile of discarded clothing. Thank God he can't talk or I would be in so much shit. I laugh at the thought and Harm gives me a puzzled look. I nod towards the dog and Harm smiles back at me, knowing exactly what I'm thinking.

He moves us so that we're on our sides, his back facing the dog with the watchful eyes, and now he slips a hand between us to touch me in just the right spot. I moan from all the sensations going on at once and he falls still again as he waits for me to come around him. It doesn't take much and I'm falling into that place again. A place where everything is perfect even if it only last for a few seconds. He wait until it passes over me and I grow quiet again before he begins moving.

Through gritted teeth, he manages to say something. "Is it okay?"

"Now's a fine time to ask," I say, and he nods at me, looking even more desperate now than he did a few minutes ago. "Everything is fine, Harm. I wouldn't let that happen twice."

I don't add 'no matter how badly I want for it to happen' even though the words flit through my brain. Before they can become anything more than a passing thought, he thrusts into me, deeper and harder than I imagined possible and he comes. He doesn't do it quietly but instead says my name over and over. My name. Not Mac, but my name. In response to the sounds he's making the puppy starts making sounds of his own and we both turn towards him.

"He sounds like a cricket," Harm says, still trying to catch his breath.

"Yeah, he does, doesn't he?"

Harm doesn't pull out of my body right away, but rather we stay just like this, wrapped in each other's arms. The room begins to grow chilly around us but neither of us moves. I don't want to lose this ever again. All I want to do is watch his face, dusted by a smattering of flashing lights, as he begins to grow sleepy.

************

She's nestled in my arms, the puppy dozing off between us, in her bed. I know it's not just her bed but I fight to stop thinking of her with someone else in here. While it's just the two of us, it's her bed.

"Come here, Cricket," she says, patting the bed. The puppy looks at her, cocks his tired head and falls right back to sleep on the warm quilt. "I seem to have the habit of making men fall asleep."

"I'm not sleeping," I say, pulling her closer. We're buried under a pile of quilts and blankets and the TV flickers from near the foot of the bed but neither of us is really watching it. It's the local late night news and all they're talking about is the snow.

"Good," she says, her hand moving across my body, warm and gentle. The wind howls outside the windows and I'm sure I'll have to dig my little car out in the morning. The storm is supposed to pass by then, which is good because then the airports will reopen in time for Mac to have her daughter home for Christmas. As much as I'd like to stay her with her through the holidays, that's far more important.

"When it warms up, let's fly somewhere again," I say and she moves enough to prop herself up and look at me.

"Where would you like to go?" she asks and I really don't know.

"Somewhere . . . with you. That will be good enough," I say and she smiles.

"I'll try but it won't be as easy to get away now that I have a kid, you know. I can't just take off for the weekend and expect no one to ask questions when I get back," she says, her fingers tracing a pattern on my chest.

"We'll go and be back before anyone knows that we're even gone. I just want to take you somewhere. Anywhere," I say and she sighs.

"Are you really coming back from Hawaii?" she asks and I cringe. I deserve that. I said I'd be back and then I didn't come back. All the reasons were purely selfish and I know it. I didn't want to be the one to hurt May. I didn't want to be the one to ruin our careers. I didn't want to be the one to blame for anything. I still don't want to face the blame but someday, it will be inevitable.

"I'm coming back this time. I promise. I'm scheduled to transfer in April," I say and she sucks in a deep breath.

"Why so long?" Mac asks, resting her head on my chest now, right where she can hear my heart beating.

"It's not that long. Just a few months," I whisper and she nods. "After all this time, what's a few more months?"

"Forever," she says and I know exactly how she feels. The whole time I've been in Hawaii, I've missed her. No matter how busy I get, I still missed her. Even when I was in bed with Bobbi, I wanted it to be Mac.

"I'm coming back, Mac. We need to decide what you want to do . . ."

"I already made all those decisions once. I'm not ready to go through that again. This time, I'm waiting to see if you do find your way back here," she says, moving her hand so her finger rests against my lips, keeping me silent until she moves away.

"I'm sorry."

"You should be. You don't know how many nights I cried . . ."

"Mac . . ."

"Listen to me, Harm. I was willing to give it all up for you because you asked. I'm not so sure I can promise to do that again," she says and my heart sinks. I did this to her. I took away something in here that I'm not sure is ever going to come back. Trust. It's gone and I did that to her.

"Let's give it some time. I'll be back this time because they're replacing me. They have a new XO ready to come on duty in Pearl Harbor in April and the people leasing my apartment can move out by then," I say and she doesn't say a word for a long time. I can't make what I did go away or make it all better. I fucked up. I admit it.

"What are you doing for the holidays?" she asks and I close my eyes. Not what I want to be doing, that's for sure. When I open my eyes again, she's looking up at me.

"Christmas Eve, well . . . you know," I say and she nods. That's one of the reasons I came back here. I wanted to go to the Wall on Christmas Eve this year. "And then Christmas morning I have a flight out to California. Frank invited me to spend a few days with him. Then it's back to Hawaii."

"Until April."

"Until April," I say and she just nods her head once more.

***************

December 24, 2009

"I think you're going to love what Santa Claus brought you," Mic says to a very exhausted May as he carries her up our icy front drive. The snow stopped but it's still going to be a white Christmas. May and Mic both look out of place with their Southern Hemisphere tans. May's hair is even a little bleached out.

"But Santa doesn't come until tomorrow," she protests, barely able to keep her eyes open. I get the door open and we all go into our warm house. I left the tree lights on so it would look like Christmas and May holds her eyes open long enough to see that there's nothing under the tree. "See . . . Santa's not here . . ."

"This year, Santa left your present in the kitchen," I say, looking at Mic with a smile. 'Santa' brought a gift that keeps wetting the carpet so the gift is in where I can mop the floor easily.

He puts May down on her tired legs and she drags her feet to the kitchen, her eyes looking back at us when she notices one of the gates we used when she was a baby in the doorway.

"You got me a baby!" she says excitedly and Mic makes a nervous laugh.

"Not unless your mum was doing something very interesting while we were gone," he says and I feel the color rise to my cheeks and hope that he doesn't notice it.

"May, go look!" I say, pushing her on.

She finally looks over the gate and her eyes grow wide with surprise as the puppy leaps out of his little box with blankets and comes scampering towards us. He's as sleepy as May, yawning on his way over to the gate.

"My puppy!" she says, squealing with delight as Mic pulls the gate out of the door. He kneels down next to her and picks up the dog, showing her how to hold him. I race off to get the camera and by the time I get back, they're in the living room, May's new friend bouncing all over her while she giggles. The dog makes high pitched squeaking noises, happy to have found a friend closer to his size. "Mommy, he sounds like a cricket! Can I name him Cricket?"

I lower the camera away from face and just stare at her. She's so beautiful and amazing and the emotions all well up in my chest and I know I'm going to cry. She's got so many attributes of the two men I have loved the most in my life. She's like Mic from living with him for forever and because he's her daddy and she's like Harm . . . because there's no way she couldn't be.

"You can call him Cricket, sweetheart. I think that's a great name," I say, my voice cracking on the words.

"You okay, luv?" Mic asks, standing up and taking the camera from me. I brush away the tears and smile, still looking at my little girl. She's still got on her winter coat, which is providing her with plenty of padding as the puppy bounces all over her.

"I'm fine," I say, watching the two little ones grow tired. May puts her head down on the carpet and Cricket squirms up beside her, licking her nose. It isn't long until the two of them are sleeping under the Christmas tree. Mic takes one last picture before he sweeps May up off the carpet and takes her to her room. I follow with Cricket in my arms, and we put them both into her bed.

"I think we just made that little girl's year," Mic says, smiling down at her. Oh God, how could I ever take this all away from him? How can Harm want to miss all this? I'm so torn up over all of it that it hurts inside.

"I think we did good," I say and we both leave the two to sleep for a while.

Mic grabs me around my waist and spins me around, kissing me as soon as I'm facing him. "I missed you, luv," he says, pulling away from me.

"I missed you, too," I say, looking at my watch. "But I have to go do something yet."

"What could you possibly have to do? Get my gift from where you've been hiding it?" he asks with a huge smile.

"Yeah, Mic. I have to go get your gift."

****************

I stand out in the cold, staring at the wall in front of me. Others are around me, all remembering someone that can't be with them this Christmas. Some light candles. Others leave behind mementos. Some I know from seeing them here every Christmas Eve. We nod and smile and go back to remembering what we once had.

Even knowing he didn't die when I thought he did doesn't change the fact that I never saw him again. That I grew up without a father. That's not entirely true. I had Frank. I grew up without *my* father.

Someday that little girl is going to find out she grew up without her father and she's either going to hate us all for this or she's not going to care because she grew up with her daddy. He loves her. I know he does. The two of them love her more than I can even imagine loving someone. I don't know what to do or how to get in the middle of it all. Too much time has passed now. We should have done something about this years ago.

I feel a hand on my shoulder and I turn, expecting to see one of the usual Christmas Eve visitors stopping by to say something to me. Instead, I find Mac.

"Mac? What's the matter?" I ask and she shakes her head.

"You were just thinking about not coming back, weren't you?" she asks and I look away from her.

"Did everybody get back safely?" I ask, avoiding her question.

"Everybody is fine," she answers and our eyes meet again. I want to know about May and Mac knows it. I want to know what she thought of her Christmas present. I want to know if she was excited about the puppy as Mac was.

"And . . ."

"And what?" she asks, being a little cagey with me.

"Did she like the puppy?" I ask, giving up playing around the subject.

"Do you have the right to know?" Mac asks and I just stare at her. I don't want to get into this now because this is something we can fight about forever. We both made a huge mistake and there's no way to fix it easily.

"No," I say and she looks down at the ground.

"She loved him. She said he sounds just like a cricket and that's what she named him," Mac says after a long silence. That statement is followed by even more silence on my part.

"Really?" I finally manage to say.

"Really. And why not? She's part of you, Harm. She's part of you and part of me and we have to face up to that," Mac says and now I'm the one staring at my feet.

"But . . ."

"But Mic loves her. I know that. You don't think this all doesn't break my heart into a million different pieces? It crushes me every single time she smiles at him and her eyes crinkle up like yours. It crushes me when she only wants him to carry her somewhere or do something for her because she's now his little girl and . . . she should have been yours," Mac says, the tears falling now. "It wasn't worth this much pain, Harm."

"You having your daughter was worth all of this," I say, pulling her into my arms. I can feel her body shake against mine as she continues to cry and I fight the urge to cry, too.

"She's the only good thing that's come out of this," Mac says, her voice filled with so much sorrow.

"We'll fix it. After I come back, we'll try to fix it all," I say and I feel her shaking her head against me.

"There is no way to fix it so no one gets hurt," she says and I agree. We're long past that point.

"I know. Someone's going to get hurt, Sarah," I say, kissing her on the head. She looks up at me, her eyes red now.

"I have to get back home," she says, stepping away from my embrace and my heart drops in my chest. She's going home to her family and I'm going back to a hotel room until I have to get up and catch a flight out of here in the morning. I wish she could come with and spend the night with me but I know that's impossible. She has a family to go home to.

Mac fumbles around with something in her coat pocket and finally hands me a slip of paper. "What's this?" I ask, trying to unfold the note. It's folded into a haphazard paper plane and my cold fingers struggle to unfold it with gloves on.

"It's nothing," she says and I finally get it open. 'Come back to me,' is scrawled across it and I look at Mac, the tears starting to fall down her face again.

"I promise I'll be back this time. And we'll work it all out. You'll see," I say and she wipes the tears away.

***********

 

PART XIV

September 15, 2010

"Are we close?" I ask and the man in the lead nods his head. "Then how come it took you so long to get out here? Why weren't you out here right away?"

He ignores the anger in my voice and continues to walk towards our destination. I'm tired and cold and I haven't talked to my daughter in a while now and I'm sure she's terrified.

I wonder if Sarah thought about that before she took off. I wonder if she ever thought how May would feel. I only hope I get the chance to ask her.

"We didn't make it up here because of the weather. It's probably the same weather that knocked Captain Rabb's plane out of the sky," he says, and I struggle to keep up with him. I'm so exhausted and I just want this to be over soon. One way or another, it has to end.

"How do you know it was the weather that caused him to crash?" I ask and the guy just shrugs and keeps going. No one knows what caused the accident, especially not this guy. He doesn't seem to have that much experience in avionics. Hell, he can't even find some cabin in the woods. "How could it take so long to find the wreckage? One fly over and you'd have to be able to see it."

"Listen, we appreciate your concern, Mr. Brumby, but we're doing the best job we can. We couldn't fly over it right away because of the weather. And eventually that is how it was spotted. Someone did see it from the air and they sent in a rough estimate of the coordinates. Now we're going to find them," he says, this time walking away from me quickly.

I'm more angry about this than anything right now. Angry and hurt. Why in the hell didn't she just say something? Sure, I would have fought to keep our marriage together but if it didn't make her happy . . . Christ. I wish I would have had a damn clue as to what was going on because now I just feel like an idiot.

Someone in the front of the group calls out and everybody falls silent. "I think I see it up on that ridge. We should be there in less than an hour,"he says and I feel my heart sink in my chest. Either they won't be there and nothing will be resolved or in half an hour, I'll find out the truth about everything.

I'm not sure which I want -- or don't want -- more.

***********

September 6, 2010

"We have to get back to the office," I say, looking over at the clock on the night stand. "There's that hearing at 3:00 p.m. and I have a meeting at 4:30 and . . ."

His hand skims down my body, brushing gently over my breasts and I forget the office for a second. This has been too damn easy to do lately. The two of us sneaking off to Harm's apartment at lunch has become a weekly occurrence and the thought of Mondays with him is all that gets me through the weekends.

I reach for his hand and pull it up to my mouth, kissing his fingers. They taste like us and what we just did together. I sigh at the thought that this is all we might ever be. We've fallen into this comfortable pattern that started when he got back last April and both of us are too scared to move in either direction. It's as if we're waiting for someone else to find out so they can make the move for us. There are days I wish Mic would figure it all out and I'd even be willing to endure the inevitable questioning if it would mean an end to it all.

Then I remember that this is the family I always wanted. I would be destroying it much the way my father destroyed ours. I'm destroying it right now simply because of where I am and I don't know how to stop any of this.

I laugh out loud at that thought and Harm turns to look me in the eyes. "Something funny?" he asks and I roll over so I don't have to face him. He pulls me close to his body, his arm wrapped around me and it's so comfortable I can't imagine ever leaving this.

"I keep telling myself that there is no way out of this but that's just a lie," I say and he sucks in a deep breath.

"Are you saying that you . . . do you want to . . ." he fumbles with the words and I smile. He doesn't want to see this end anymore than I do.

"I just want there to be a solution where no one gets hurt and there is no way for that now," I say and he pulls me even closer. "I want it so May doesn't get hurt. I want it so May doesn't blame me for it all."

"Why do you think she'll blame you?" he asks, kissing the back of my neck softly. I could stay here forever and forget the rest of the world if it weren't for my little girl.

I sigh and close my eyes, remembering when I was young. "I hated my father for making Mom go away. If only he could have . . . I don't know, not been him, she would have stayed. I wished they would have done something to fix it. I wished he could have given up drinking for her and I wish she would have not run like she did."

"You aren't running away and Mic will always be a part of her life. You still aren't afraid that she might be his, are you?" he asks and I turn in his arms, unsure of what he's getting at.

"But if she isn't . . ."

"He's been her father for all these years. I'm not taking that away from him and I doubt he'll take her away from you. I've never liked the guy but I don't think he'd go that far," Harm says and I don't even want to think about it. All I ever wanted to do was give her all the things I never had, including a happy, stable family. I failed as miserably as my parents did but it wasn't due to alcohol. No, this is due to thinking I could have it all and still keep everybody happy. If everybody stays happy, no one will yell and scream.

I tense up in Harm's arms and he looks concerned. "You okay?" he asks, running his fingers down my cheek.

"Yeah," I say, even though I'm not. We both know this can't keep going on forever. If no one ever finds out, we're still going to have to tell them. Damn it. Why can't he just figure it out for himself? "You know this can't go on like this forever, right?"

"I know," he says and he props himself up on his elbow, still watching me. "Come away with me."

"When?" I ask, wondering how much further we're going to push this. The two hour lunches with various cover-up stories is already risky enough. There's only so many interviews we can say we're going on without ever bringing back an interview. Especially since we are always gone at the same time.

"This weekend . . ."

"Harm, I can't go anywhere for a whole weekend on such short notice. You know that," I say and he looks hurt that I would turn him down so quickly. There's no way I could do it, though. I'd have to make up too many lies.

"How about just Saturday, then?" he asks and now I'm puzzled. Obviously this isn't about spending the night together although over the summer we did plenty of stuff in just one day. Usually up against his plane or in the hangar.

"Where do you want to go?" I ask and he smiles.

"Nothing too special. There's just someone I want you to meet."

*************

September 9, 2010

Mac slips wordlessly into the chair across from me and then puts her lunch and bottle of water down on the cast iron table. It's a beautiful late summer day and most of the staff has used that as an excuse to take lunch outside. No one ever questions when we're together at work. It's been years now that we've occasionally met for lunch out here and nothing about this is suspicious. Someday, when the truth comes out, people will say, 'Oh, yeah . . . I could tell by the way he stared at her across the table' and I'll have to laugh at that thought.

"Tough day?" I ask, sitting up straight in my chair and crossing my arms in front of me. Sometimes I forget I can't reach out and touch her. People might notice that.

"Absolutely awful," she says, looking up at me with exhausted eyes. "May didn't want to go to sleep last night and then she didn't want to get up this morning. Mic is working on some case that has him on edge and I'm buried under the Kain trial."

I lean in just a little and watch as she opens up her lunch and ask, "Will you be able to . . . you know . . ."

She nods and I stop asking. No need saying anything more out here. "Does she know you're coming to visit?" she asks, not adding herself to the phrasing.

"The nurse told her but I doubt she will remember it," I say, looking away from Mac. "From what I understand, I don't think she'll even remember me."

"I'm sorry," Mac says with a sigh, and now I'm sorry I added this to her already bad week.

"If you're not up to it . . ." I say and she picks at her food a little before putting her fork to the side.

"It's not that, Harm. It's just that I'm not sure why you want to do this now. She won't know who I am so why?" she asks, her voice barely rising above a whisper.

"Because I want you to know her. You should since . . . because of May . . . " I start to say and someone walks too close to the table and we both sit up straight and look at anything else but each other. "I know she'll never remember, but I'd like it."

"I'll be there. For you," she says with a slight smile. "But we have to be back by Saturday night."

"I'll have you back whenever you need to be back," I say and she looks around again. No one is paying any attention to us. They hardly ever do.

"I'd love to stay longer but I can't," she says, picking up her fork and picking at her food again. "I would call once we get there and say I got delayed but . . . I just can't this time."

"I know," I say. Sometimes she acts like she's the only one who has something to lose in all of this. Both of our careers are on the line and one slip up could jeopardize everything we've worked so hard for all these years. I know something will have to change, but I'd rather be in control of that change. "It will be okay, Mac. I'll have you back before the plane turns into a pumpkin."

"Some other time . . . we can . . ." she starts to say, making a little motion with her hand.

"You better count on it."

**************

September 11, 2010

I park my car near the main hangar and grab my bag so I can change my clothes before we go. Once again, I had to leave in my uniform if I wanted my story to be plausible. Mic was barely awake when I told him I had to make the long drive to Norfolk about a case I'm working on. That should give me ample time to go with Harm and get back. May was still fast asleep when I kissed her good-bye. I told Mic there might be a chance I have to stay over tonight but I doubted it, not wanting to push my luck.

Harm is nowhere to be found, so I go into the little bathroom and change and I still don't see him when I take my clothes back to the car. Maybe he changed his mind and just didn't let me know except his car is here. I go to call him on my wireless phone when he finally walks from around the building and waves to me.

"I thought maybe you changed your mind," I say, walking towards him.

"I was in the office checking the weather and making some last minute arrangements for transportation on the other end. I didn't see you drive up," he says, pulling me into his arms for a hug and a kiss. We stand there like this, holding onto each other for what seems like minutes. "I've missed you."

"You saw me all week," I say, smiling. It's still nice to know after all this time, he still misses me. Sad that I find satisfaction in that, but nice still the same. He releases me and takes my hand as we walk towards the plane. "You're all ready to go?"

"I've been here for a few hours already checking her out," he says, his eyes twinkling when he looks at his airplane like a little boy looking at a Christmas tree.

"I'm surprised you could stay away from her so long when you were in Hawaii. You probably missed that plane more than you missed me," I ask and he has to consider it before grabbing me in his arms and giving me a long, deep kiss. My insides begin to flutter before he lets me go and then he looks from me to the plane again.

"It was close, but I missed you more."

I punch him on the arm and he fakes pain as we both laugh. "You were probably holed up with some native girl and you never thought about me," I say and he gets quiet. Too quiet. "Was there . . . someone?"

"Not . . . no. Mac, it wasn't anything like that," he says and I fight the urge to ask more. I want to know more but then again, I don't. Just like I'm sure he doesn't want to know anything about Mic.

"It's okay," I whisper and he pulls me close again.

"You ready to fly?" he asks, moving us away from that uncomfortable topic.

"With you? Always."

"Then can I ask you a favor?" he asks, looking away from me.

"What is it?" I ask back and he takes my left hand in his.

"I've never asked you to do this before and you can say no . . . but can you take these off for just today?" he asks, twisting my engagement ring and wedding band around my finger.

I look down and barely think about it before slipping them off and tucking them into the pocket of my jeans.

***************

We land at the small airfield near my grandmother's farm and there's nothing here but one of the old farm trucks with a note stuck under a windshield wiper and the keys tucked under the seat.

"Trusting, aren't they?" Mac asks and I nod.

"Who would want to steal this? It could possibly be the oldest truck in the county," I say, tossing some stuff that I don't want to leave in the plane into the back of the truck. "Sam got a ride back to the farm and we should just go over there."

"Sam?" she asks.

"Sam has been Grandma's farm hand for years. And a little more, I suspect but I never had the nerve to ask," I say, not really wanting to think of my grandmother like that. Mac just nods with understanding. "I think this has been harder on him than on anyone. He's losing a lot."

"I can't even begin to imagine," Mac says, getting in the truck and slamming the heavy door. I follow suit and turn the noisy engine over and soon we're on our way, traveling down a narrow country highway. Not much changes around here and as we pass a farmer moving at a snail's pace on his John Deere, he gives us a friendly wave. He probably thinks we're Sam.

Finally, we arrive at Grandma's farm and I pull the truck up into the circular drive. "They've rented off a lot of the land in the last few years. Sam keeps as much as he can manage but the acreage is a lot smaller than it was when I was a kid."

"I bet you had fun here when you were younger," Mac says, getting out of the truck and looking around. I blush a little when she turns her attention to the barn and it doesn't escape her attention. "Harm, what did you do with the local farm girls? Roll around in the hay?"

"I'm not telling you," I say with a quick grin as I walk past her to the kitchen door. The screen door opens with a loud squeak, alerting anyone in the house to our presence. "When I was a kid, I was certain she never oiled this so she could tell when I was sneaking out."

"Why didn't you just go out the front door?" Mac asks and I shrug my shoulders.

"No one ever uses the front door," I say as we walk through the kitchen. The house seems so still now and it was a shock the last time I was here to not find my grandma standing in the kitchen baking or cooking something. It still hurts a little this time not to find her standing there, wiping her hands on her apron before welcoming me with open arms.

"Harm? Is that you?" a male voice calls out from the living room and we follow it there.

"It's us, Sam," I say and the older man stands up and shakes my hand before pulling me into a grandfatherly hug. He moves his attention quickly from me to Mac and I can tell by his grin that he's pleases with what he sees. "Sam, this is Sarah MacKenzie."

"Call me Mac," she says, taking his hand in hers.

"We've already got enough Sarahs around here, I guess," Sam says, looking tired and sad. "For now at least."

"How's she doing?" I ask and Sam just shakes his head.

"She's got moments when she remembers everything with vivid clarity and at other times, she doesn't even know who I am," he says, his voice not hiding the pain of the whole situation. "Today isn't a good day, so don't expect too much."

"I just wanted to see her. And to have Mac meet her," I say.

"So, you're Harm's newest girl?" Sam innocently asks and Mac looks at me quickly before answering.

"We've known each other for quite a while but . . ."

"I gotcha," Sam says, sitting back down in a huge recliner. He isn't going to judge anything about us. Not after all these years with Grandma. "Go on up and see her. The nurse just got her all bathed and pretty this morning. Not that Sarah isn't always pretty."

"Thanks, Sam," I say.

"Oh, she's staying in the back bedroom now. It was too hard getting up and down those stairs," Sam adds and I look towards the narrow staircase leading to the second floor of the old farmhouse. I can't imagine my grandmother staying in a room without all her belongings and memories but I guess much of that doesn't matter now.

I take Mac's hand and lead her to the small downstairs bedroom that no one ever used. I think Grandma used to do her ironing in here and not much else. I knock on the door and here a small 'come in' before opening it and entering. Mac hangs back behind me, not sure what to expect.

Grandma looks a lot smaller than the last time I saw her, but her hair is still neatly pulled up on her head and she has on a housecoat that makes her look like . . . a grandmother. She has a hospital bed to sleep on but right now she's sitting in her old rocking chair, the TV softly playing in the corner.

She turns to me, her eyes meeting mine and for a second there's a flash of recognition there.

"Harm, how good of you to come visit," she says, motioning for me to come further into the room. Her eyes go past me and fall on Mac.

"Grandma, this is . . ."

"Trish, whatever did you do to your hair?" she asks and I feel my heart sink in my chest. She thinks I'm my father, coming to visit with Mom. She wouldn't remember that both of my parents are gone now.

Mac steps up quickly and takes one of Grandma's hands. "You like it?" she asks, and Grandma reaches out with her other hand and touches Mac's soft, brown hair.

"It suits you," she says, her eyes meeting mine again. "When are you ever going to give me grandchildren?"

"All in good time," Mac says and I nod, fighting off the tears. I feel as if I'm losing the last of my immediate family and it hurts.

"That's good to hear, dear," Grandma says, moving her hand to Mac's cheek. I wanted Mac to meet her but not necessarily like this.

"And if we have a little girl, I hope she looks just like you," Mac finishes, and in a way, that's already happened. May does look a little like my grandmother but how would Mac know that until now?

"You just make sure that he doesn't do anything crazy when he flies and I'm sure that will happen," Grandma says and Mac assures her she's keep me safe.

*************

"I'm sorry," Harm says as we walk around the farmyard, enjoying the warm, late summer air.

"For what?" I ask and he doesn't answer right away. "She is a very beautiful woman, Harm. It's not her fault or your fault that this happened to her."

"She's sure you're my mother," he says and I smile.

"And she thinks you're her son but that's okay, Harm. I still got to meet her. I always thought that May's eyes looked like yours but now I can see that they're hers," I say and Harm smiles at that thought.

"She's an incredible woman. After my grandfather was killed, she raised Dad by herself and then lost him, too. And then she almost lost me but in the end, she managed to save me. It's because of something she said that I became a lawyer. If I wouldn't have done that, I would have never met you," he says, pulling me close. It's nice being out here, where no one knows what we really are nor do they care. To these people, I'm just Harm's 'girl' and I can live with that for a day. No one needs to know that I'm a Colonel in the United States Marines and that what we're doing together is in violation of several regs. None of that matters today.

"Show me the barn," I say and he laughs.

"What for?" he asks, not moving in that direction.

"Show me where you seduced all those young farm girls when you would stay here as a teenager," I say and he just shakes his head.

"Did you take a look around? How many young farm girls do you think really were in the neighborhood back then?" he asks and I shrug my shoulders.

"At least one?"

"Yeah. Just one . . . but nothing happened. At least not when we were kids," he says and I smile at him.

"So, who would this young farm girl be?" I ask and he just smiles at me and opens the big door to the barn.

"I didn't even know you then so it's none of your business," he says as we walk into the darkness of the barn. It's neater than any barn I've ever seen before and there is no hay to roll around in and I ask Harm about it.

"Where do you roll around if there's no hay?"

"You don't," he says, pulling me further into the barn. "I think they once kept hay in here. I remember my mom saying something about it, but it's been a long time since they've had livestock around here."

An old dog comes clattering from behind a piece of farm equipment and walks up to Harm without any hesitation. He sits at Harm's feet and begins scratching his ear with his back paw.

"I believe this is Scratch Two or Three. I'm not sure what they're up to, now," Harm says, kneeling down beside the dog and helping it by scratching its ears.

"They all have the same name?" I ask and he nods.

"The cats you have to name yourself. There's too many of them to keep up with," he says, standing back up again. The dog flops down right in that spot and starts to snooze. He walks to the far corner of the barn and just stares at a spot for a long time.

"What is it?" I ask, standing next to him and wrapping my arm around his.

"That plane you were just in today . . . this is where she sat for decades until I refurbished her. She really means a lot to me. If Grandma wouldn't have suggested I come out here and work on her, I don't know what I would have become," he says, the memories beginning to overwhelm him. I pull Harm into my arms and we just stand in the dark barn, rocking slowly together.

"Sometimes I'm so envious of you and the family you have. A mother who would never leave you. A father who loved you. A grandmother who would do anything to see that you're back on your feet again. All I ever had was Uncle Matt," I say, rising up on my feet to give Harm a light kiss on the lips. He returns it and we both go back to rocking together.

"I'm envious of the family you have now. A husband and a little girl. I could have been . . . it should have been mine," he says and I don't know what to say. I feel a lump rise up to my throat because I've always wanted it to be his family. I settled for what I have just to have a family. I wanted May to have a secure place to grow up and I didn't want her to suffer like I did and Mic has given her all of that. He shouldn't be punished now for what we have done but I want so much more.

"It still can be yours," I say and he looks down at me. "You'll just have to share it a little because I can't take her away from Mic."

"I know," Harm says, pulling me even closer. I'm almost afraid to make any promises to him right now because I'm not sure how much of this he's sincere about or how much is just in reaction to his grandmother's condition. After the thing with Hawaii, I'm still a little on edge when it comes to making major decisions.

He leans down and starts kissing me again and as appealing as the though of making love to him in this barn is, that's not what we're here for. I stop him as his hands begin to wander under my shirt and pull away.

"You need to go spend time with her, Harm. That's what we're here for," I say and he agrees.

"Next time we go flying, it will be just you and me, okay?" he asks and I nod quickly.

"That sounds too good," I say, giving him one more kiss before we head back to the house.

*************

The visiting nurse returns and I give Grandma a kiss goodbye, knowing she still doesn't realize who I am, leaving her in her room. I find Mac sitting out on the couch, watching TV with Sam and chatting about some news item. Sam appears to be quite taken with her.

Thunder rumbles off in the distance and I become all too aware of the weather around us. Knowing exactly what I'm thinking, Sam flips to the weather channel and I focus on the local area.

"We're going to have to fly a different path than the one we came in, but I should be able to get us around it," I say and Mac just stares at me.

"If it's a problem, I can stay," she says, sounding nervous at the prospect of either flying in inclement weather or having to explain where she is and why she's not coming home. I'm not sure which one worries her more.

"We'll be okay," I say but she still doesn't look sure. "I've had to do this before. I know what I'm doing."

"If anything happens, you'll come back, right?" Sam asks and I assure him that we will turn around if I can't avoid it.

"It's a really small storm. It might dissipate before we even get off the ground," I say and Sam stands up, ready to drive us back to the airfield.

"Next time, you'll stay longer?" he asks, directing his question mainly to me but he gives Mac a quick glance, too.

"I would love to stay longer," Mac says and I smile, glad that despite the circumstances, she enjoyed her visit.

"We better get going," Sam says and we follow him out the door to the old truck. He drives us back to the tiny airfield and the sky looks calm over us and the windsocks are hardly lofting into the air at all.

Sam pulls me into his arms for one more hug and I pat him on the back, knowing the pain he must feel right now. This time, he gives Mac a hug, too and then we both watch as he pulls off to return as quickly as he can to the farm and my grandmother.

"He's a nice man," Mac says as I get the plane ready. She wanders around me, watching my thorough inspection.

"He's a very good man. I know he's worried about what I'm going to do with the farm when Grandma passes away, but I can't imagine taking it away from him. I can't imagine selling it, either," I say, crawling under the plane and inspecting more hoses.

"A farm would be a nice place to get away to," Mac says and I look up at her and smile.

"We could even get some hay," I say and that puts a smile on her face, too.

"Hay would be a requirement," she says in agreement and we both laugh.

"Next time you can get away, I promise there will be hay," I say, climbing out of under the plane and wiping my greasy hands on my jeans. She grabs for me and pulls me into a long, hard kiss and we end up pressed against my plane.

"We could do it right here. Right now," she says, breaking the kiss, and it's a tempting thought. There's nothing like making love to someone up against an airplane while standing in a country field. But . . . there's the weather. And she has to get home.

"Next time," I say and she just kisses me one last time before climbing up into the plane and putting on her gear.

*************

"Harm," I call out and he doesn't answer me right away. "Harm?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you have to land her somewhere? I'd rather do that than . . ."

"We'll be okay," he shouts back over the headsets and I try to believe him. The whole trip so far has been turbulent and I'd rather put her down somewhere, call home and make up some excuse than keep flying through this.

He sounds confident so I try to relax despite the rough air we seem to be struggling through. I even go as far as closing my eyes, trying to remember that Harm has flown through worse. At least no one is shooting at us. And that he can get us out of most bad situations.

Then I remember that we nearly crashed this plane before and that we did crash a fighter plane once. Or rather, were shot down. Harm isn't the luckiest man alive by any measure. And I'm stuck in a plane with him flying through less than perfect weather.

That will teach me the next time he wants to fly away somewhere for a day. Maybe just once we can drive. Or take a commercial flight. Wait. Harm really doesn't have much better luck with those, either.

Driving seems to be the best solution. I've spent many hours with Harm in a Navy issue automobile and not much has happened. Get him in the air and all hell breaks loose.

"We're going to have to skirt around the Shenandoah National Park and that should get us out of this weather," he calls to me and I open my eyes again, looking over the side of the plane. There's nothing there but woodlands for miles and miles. "When we get around it, we'll head east and then north towards DC. That should get us around the worst of it."

"Or we could just land somewhere," I shout back but he ignores me, instead focusing on keeping this flight as smooth as possible. I close my eyes again, and pray for something to keep us aloft. I pray for Harm not to let us fall from up this high. I just want to get home to May. That's all I'm asking for right now.

A sudden boom makes me open my eyes again but I'm not sure what happened. I'm not even sure anything has happened just yet. I stay as still as I can, hoping that was nothing.

"Fuck!" Harm shouts from behind me and I know it was more than just nothing.

***********

PART XV

September 15, 2010

"Up there," someone says, pointing to what appears to be nothing more than a pile of boards nailed together in a haphazard method. They would have to be desperate to take refuge in that.

"How'd they ever make it up the ridge in the rain? It's nothing but mud," another man says and I try to figure that out myself.

"They probably came at it from a different angle. A better question is how did they ever see this from the air?" the first man asks and I sigh. Leave it to Rabb to find the only shelter in the area. Little does he know that if they would have gone the other direction, they would have found a footpath a few hundred yards from the crash site.

"Can you make it up there?" Sergeant Janson asks me and I don't answer but merely bound up to the top of the muddy hill, waiting for them to follow. I'm this close to Sarah and they aren't going to stop me now. I'm this close to the answers and even if I don't want them, I have to have them. I have to know.

"Mr. Brumby, perhaps you should let one of us go in first . . . just in case," Janson says and I step back and let him by.

My feet won't move anyway. Maybe I don't want the answers. Maybe I just want to turn back time to before the 11th and pretend none of this ever happened. But I can't do that. Besides, this was going on a long time before that day. This has been going on for years and I have a little box of notes at home to prove it.

Janson motions for a few men to go past him and they open the door and look around before stepping in. One of them turns to me and motions me on with a nod of his head.

My first steps are tentative at best but then I rush to the door. I stand there, hovering between the outside and inside, looking at what's before me for as long as I can before I have to turn around and walk away.

*************

September 11, 2010

"Mac?"

Nothing. It's impossible to move and she's not answering me. I pull off my goggles and headset and listen closer. I have no idea how long I've been out but it's been a while.

"Mac, answer me, dammit!" I call out louder.

Still nothing. I try to push myself out of the wreckage around me, moving as much as I can before the effort starts to hurt. Something is digging into my leg and each movement just makes it worse.

"Mac?" I try one more time and sit silently, waiting for any kind of response. I can't call out anymore. It hurts too much. All I can do is listen for her to call out to me.

She never does.

**************

Something is trickling down my face. That's all I can feel. A soft trickle down the side of my face. It fills my goggles and I struggle to get them off, finally managing to get them down around my neck.

I hope it's not blood. I can't taste any blood. Just something . . . wet. A piece of what used to be a plane is covering me and I can't see any light. All I can hear is the steady thumping of rain on metal.

I can't hear anything else. Oh, God. Harm. I can't hear him. All I can hear is the rain and this incredible noise inside my head, banging around. My head hurts so much and I just want to close my eyes.

That's not good. I have to keep my eyes open.

But I can't. I welcome the blackness.

***************

My head begins to clear and I shake off the haze that seems to have encased my brain. I don't know how long I was out this time and I have to stay awake. I can't help her if I keep blacking out.

"Mac!" I start calling again. I'm too scared to move. Too scared to find the answer that way. I want her to call for me. I want to hear her voice.

"Mac, you've to answer me. I can't do this without you," I call out and then I listen. I stop and listen for a long time. Finally, I'm rewarded with a nearly imperceptible voice coming from somewhere in front of me.

"Hmm . . ."

"Mac, talk to me. You've got to talk to me," I say, beginning to push pieces of the plane off of me, desperate to get out in spite of the pain. I move something and a I feel a splash of wetness hit me. It's either fuel or rain coming down. If it's the former, we have to get out of this mess soon. It doesn't take long for it to become a downpour, though, and I've never been so glad to see rain.

I call out for Mac again and try to focus on everything around me. The trees stretch on forever before us and I can't see through them. Behind us is a small meadow. How in the hell did we survive this? Luck or fate or something I'll never understand. The same thing that pulls me through all the close calls I've had in life.

Managing to escape the wreckage of my plane, I find the area where Mac is lodged and the adrenaline begins to pump through my body. She looks so . . . damaged. So small and helpless amidst this disaster. She doesn't look like her normal tough Marine self.

Afraid to move her, I reach down and gently touch her pale face, and she goes to turn her head in my direction. Her headset is missing and the goggles are down around her neck.

"Don't move," I instruct, trying to shield her from the rain. She listens or else she really can't move. I find her hand and squeeze her fingers hard and she jerks. Thank God. At least she can feel that. I pull more of the plane off of her, the metal digging into my flesh, making me bleed. Finally, she's free. "Mac, can you feel your legs?"

"They hurt like hell," she manages to say and I laugh. I'm just glad she can feel. "What happened?"

I look back at where the plane slid from the clearing into the trees and I shake my head. "I don't know yet. Obviously, that clearing wasn't big enough to land in."

She almost laughs and it turns into a groan. "You can only get lucky so many times," she says and her eyes meet mine.

"You're alive. That's good enough," I say, motioning for her to lie still. "I don't know how bad your injuries are."

"What are you going to do? Wait for the paramedics to show up?" she asks, looking up towards the dark sky. "How deep in the woods are we?"

"I don't really know but it can't be too far. The weather is going to hamper any rescue, though," I say, brushing the rain off of her face.

"At least someone is waiting for me at home. They'll miss me sooner or later," Mac says, her tone somber. She turns her dark eyes from the sky back to mine and I can see the tears welling up through the rain.

"I didn't want it to happen like this," I say, my voice barely rising about the falling rain.

"But it did," she says, her eyes fluttering shut. "It did and there's no way to hide it now."

*************

Everything hurts. Not only every muscle in my body but my heart is aching, too. This was a stupid thing to do. So damn risky and so damn stupid. I wanted this to be out in the open but not like this.

"Damn it," Harm says, sitting down on the wet ground near me. He wipes his dirty hands down the front of his jeans and then looks at them. They're still bleeding, I'm sure. "Nothing wants to go right."

"That's an understatement," I say, trying to stay still. Any little move and the pain shoots through my body. I don't think it's anything serious. I just feel like I got tossed around good. "I take it you can't get the radio working?"

"It's gone. And remember that bag I threw in the back of Sam's truck? That's where my wireless phone was. Unfortunately, it's still in the back of Sam's truck," he says, looking disgusted with himself.

"Mine . . . Mic has mine. I didn't even think to take it because I wasn't going to call home anyway," I say and what I just said barely registers on Harm's face. "This way I wouldn't have a way to call and tell him I wasn't going to be home."

We both say nothing. What is there to say? Sure, I could have called from anywhere but I wasn't thinking. I just . . . wasn't thinking.

"Can you move soon?" Harm asks and I turn my head towards him and wince. I'm sure my expression is answer enough to his question. "We can't stay here all night. There's no shelter."

"Shouldn't we just stay here? Someone has to see the plane," I offer, looking at the yellow wreckage before me. "Or what's left of it."

He stares at the parts scattered across the ground, his face not hiding any of the pain he's feeling about his loss. It's just the beginning of what I'm sure are to be many losses coming our way.

"I think we flew over some sort of structure a little way back. This storm isn't going to let up and I don't want to spend the night out here in the rain," he says, his eyes moving from the plane up to the sky. I can't tell if he's crying through all the raindrops that are splashing on his face but I think he is.

A long time ago, I made fun of him when he didn't want to abandon his plane but now I've grown to understand his love for her. It was a dream of his father's that he got to finish and now it's gone. She's not going to be able to fly him out of this big mess.

He wipes his hand across his face and continues to stare up toward the falling rain. "Come here," I say, motioning for him to come closer and he looks at me for a long time before moving my way.

We fall against each other and I gasp in pain before the tears finally start falling. "I'm sorry," he says, holding onto me. I grab onto him despite the pain and just let it all out.

"There's nothing to be sorry for. We got ourselves into this. We're both to blame," I say after the tears subside, feeling him slump against me, his body heavy against mine. I'm not so sure I even believe what I'm saying and I'm glad to see him realize that this is a mess, too.

He pulls away, looking at me, his hand reaching out to touch my cheek. "You look like hell," he says, his fingers going through my wet hair. His face is bruised and when I take his hand in mine, he winces as I examine his cuts.

"You don't look so good yourself," I say and the rain begins to pour even harder.

"It's always raining on us," he says, trying to blink away both his tears and the rain.

"It's an omen we never bothered to pay attention to," I say, jumping when thunder claps high above us.

"We need to get out of here," he says, standing up slowly. He really doesn't look good and I think he's trying to hide something.

"You okay?"

"Fine. I'll be fine," he says, his face twisted in pain. He moves towards the wreckage and begins to dig around. "I need to find the emergency supplies. I'm not sure what we're going to eat until they find us. There's not much in here. Just enough to get us through a day or two."

He wipes his brow as he continues to search for what we need. I pull myself up from the ground and go look with him. My eyes travel over the damaged plane and once again I'm amazed we both made it out alive.

And I'm certain that our survival is a punishment.

************

The rain lets up for a few minutes and we try to make it as far as we can without the constant onslaught of water. I keep looking for a trail but there's no sign that people ever pass through here.

"I've got to . . . Harm, I've got to stop," Mac says from behind me and I turn to look at her. She's leaning against a tree, looking as miserable as I feel.

"Okay," I say, walking back towards her. My back hurts and my leg is bleeding again and the cuts on my hands are throbbing.

"You okay?" she asks one more time and I try to smile. It doesn't work.

"We'll make it, Mac," I say and she just nods at me. "I have to . . . I'm going to go find somewhere to pee. Will you be okay here for a minute?"

"At least you don't have to squat in the woods," she says, giving me a half hearted attempt at a smile. She's already had to go and I had to help with her clothes. If that isn't some sort of testament to how much we love each other, I'm not sure what is. "Don't go far."

"I won't," I say.

She stays there against the tree, closing her eyes. I'm sure she'd sit if it weren't so hard to get back up again. I wonder off a little way, but stay close enough that I can see her.

I start to go and look down midstream. Damn. Blood. I have no idea where it's coming from but it's there. That must be why my back is hurting so much. My kidneys. It hurts like hell, too.

"You okay?" Mac calls out and I finish up as quickly as I can and tuck myself into my jeans. She can't know about this right now. She's got enough to deal with.

"I'm fine," I say, walking back to where she's still standing. "You ready to go?"

"Not really," she says and I put my hand out to her. She doesn't take it, and I'm sure it's because she's afraid of hurting me. Instead, she pushes off the tree and we start our journey again.

************

"We aren't going to make it before it's dark," he says, turning to look at me. I'm struggling to keep up. We're both struggling, actually. Maybe this was a bad idea. There have been momentary pauses in the rain but the next wave would just be worse. This isn't going to clear up and I wish I could get my hands on the person who messed up the weather report so badly.

"What do you want to do?" I ask right before I slump down to the ground. I'm exhausted and in pain and we can't keep going in the dark. It's already black from the rain and this storm has to break soon for the moon to make a difference.

"Die?"

"Not without me," I say and he sits down across from me, tossing the small bag of emergency provisions to the side. Both of us are wet and dirty and I know I'm too scared to close my eyes right now. If I do, I'm not so sure I'll feel like opening them again.

I have to. I have to make it home to May. That's what's keeping me going right now. I don't want to cause her anymore pain than this already is going to cause.

"Does your head hurt?" Harm asks, leaning towards me to touch my forehead.

"Everything hurts."

"You don't have a fever yet," he says and I start shaking. It's so cold and there's no way I'm ever going to get dry.

"What about you?" I ask, pulling him in my direction no matter how much it hurts.

"I'll be okay," he says, brushing off my touch. It doesn't matter. I know he's burning up. I can see it in his eyes.

"No you won't. You're just as injured as I am if not more so," I say and he grimaces as he moves a little, trying to get comfortable. He won't let me look but I know something is hurting badly.

"I just want to get you home. You have to get home to May," he says. He looks into my eyes and holds my stare.

"So do you," I say and he nods his head. "Harm, I want you to know her. We have to find out for sure and then, well, that doesn't even matter. I want you to know her."

"I thought we knew for sure," he says, looking concerned I would suggest such a thing.

"You're a lawyer. It's not for sure until it's for sure," I say and he nods his head again. "Do you want to get some sleep?"

"Yes," he says and he finally moves towards me, trying to protect me from the rain.

"What's wrong, Harm? There's something you're not telling me," I say, feeling his hot skin next to mine. He's so hot. Too hot.

"Nothing's wrong. Go to sleep," he says and the two of us finally drift off to sleep holding onto each other.

*************

September 12, 2010

"What time is it?" she croaks out, her throat sounding sore and parched. I open my eyes and try to focus on my watch in the early morning light.

"It's too soon to get up. Go back to sleep," I tell her, struggling to keep my eyes open for even just a second. I'm so exhausted and everything is starting to hurt even more.

"I can't . . . here, move your arm a little," she says and I do so. She tucks her head up against my shoulder and it dawns on both of us at the same time that the rain has stopped. The clouds are still angry with rain but for now, the deluge has stopped.

She keeps moving against me and I know I'm never going to get back to sleep now. "We'll go in a few minutes," I say and feel her nod against my chest.

Everything is so quiet and still around us. Finally, a bird calls through the morning air and Mac sits up a little more. "He knows something has happened by now. He might not know exactly what, but he knows something," she says and I sit up more, trying to brush the mud off of me.

"That could be for the best, Mac. Someone will know to look for you," I say and she closes her eyes.

"I told him I had to go to Norfolk. They'll never look here," she says.

"Sam will figure out something is wrong sooner or later. People will put two and two together . . ."

"And realize we've been having an affair for years? That's just wonderful," she says, anger rising in her voice. "Next they'll figure out the rest and they'll know May is yours and . . ."

"Stop it, Mac! Just stop it!" I tell her and the tears start falling down her cheeks again. "No one is going to know that. Not unless you tell them and sooner or later, we're going to have to tell people if you want me to spend time with her."

"Your career. My career . . ."

"Don't even worry about it now," I say, slowly standing up. Everything hurts more than it did yesterday and I'm not in the mood to discuss any of this now. I can't fix it from here and neither can she.

"When are we supposed to worry about it, Harm? Seems we haven't worried about much all these years," she says and I start to walk away. We have to keep moving or else we're going to get caught in the rain again.

"We'll worry about it when we get out of here alive," I call back to her.

************

This time Harm is the one who has to stop and I know there's something wrong even if he won't tell me. The terrain is getting rough and it would be a godsend if we would just find a path about now but I know better than that.

The clouds haven't cleared all day and it's going to start raining again any minute. Harm finds a little clearing and sits down, groaning as he does so.

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong?" I ask and he closes his eyes. "Harm?"

"Nothing is wrong," he says and I want to smack him.

"Stop lying to me. This is me you're talking to. I know you better than that and lying about something isn't going to help matters," I say and his eyes slowly open again. He just stares at me and I know he doesn't want to tell me anything. I know he thinks he's the one who has to get us out of this.

"I'm just . . . I'm okay," he says, pulling himself off the ground. "We need to get somewhere. We need to collect some water to drink soon."

"You'd tell me, wouldn't you? You'd tell me if something was really wrong?" I ask and his eyes dart off away from mine.

"Yeah. Of course I would."

************

"What is it?" she asks as we approach the dilapidated structure. I don't really care what it is right now as the rain starts to fall on us again.

"I don't know. It looks like someone hauled some old lumber up here and built a shed," I say, pulling away a piece of wood that makes up the makeshift door. It's dark inside and there's not much in the way of furniture. I leave the door open so we have some light but it doesn't even come close to chasing the shadows out of the building.

"Will they be back?" Mac asks hesitantly, following me inside.

"Well, if they do come back, I hope they bring a phone," I say, throwing the bag of emergency supplies onto the dirt floor. There's not much here. Just a pile of dirty blankets in one corner and a couple of empty beer cans spread across the floor.

"What's that?" Mac says, nodding her head in the direction of a dirty bucket in one of the dark corners.

"Looks like . . . nails," I say, prying the lid open. "The nails they used to build this shack."

"We can clean it up and use it to collect water," she says as she continues to look around the shed. It's small. Very small. I have no idea what it's used for or why the park people would leave it up but right now I'm happy it's here.

"Okay," I say, "Sounds like a plan."

She watches me as I gather the blankets and bring them closer to the door, spreading them out and finally sitting down in the center of the pile. She goes about dumping out the remaining nails and getting the bucket ready. We'll have to start a fire soon before the light is gone but I'm just too tired to get up or move right now.

"Maybe we should have stayed with the plane," I say, starting to second guess myself. "What if . . ."

"I wouldn't start that now. We're here," she says, and I nod my head. She yanks one of the blankets out of under me and uses it to wipe the nail bucket clean. Before she can finish, rain starts to come down again, pelting across the plywood roof and seeping between the boards on the wall. Mac looks as water begins to come in from almost everywhere. "Then again, maybe it would have been more dry near the plane."

"They'll find us," I say, knowing we've been found in far more difficult places to track a person.

"Yeah," she says, looking at me. "I hope they do it soon. You look like hell."

**************

I watch him sleeping and I worry. Usually, he'd be the first one trying to do something to get us out of this mess. Instead, he's fast asleep and when he moves, he makes this horrible groaning noise.

He's lying to me about something and there's no way to get him to tell the truth. I ask and he looks away from me like he always does and I don't know why he thinks he has to protect me.

Digging through the bag he brought with, I come up with something to put water in. At least the rain has been good for something. I'll have to figure out how to boil it yet.

Then I find some food. He wasn't kidding when he said it wasn't much. I open a granola bar and nearly spit out the first bite I take. I have no idea how long that's been in there. I dig a little more and discover that I better start enjoying stale granola bars quickly.

Harm stirs behind me and I watch him roll about uncomfortably. How many times has it been now that one or the other of us has been hurt? Too many. We take too many risks and this certainly was a risky thing to do. I trust him implicitly and never imagined this would happen.

He moans a little, and rolls in the other direction, holding onto a blanket. God, he looks like May when he does that. All these things I wouldn't let myself notice until now. I've watched her sleep for so many hours now, always restless. Always clinging onto something.

When this is all worked out, I wonder if people will notice that all this time, she's had his mannerisms. She does things like Mic because he's Daddy but this is different. It's subtle. So subtle that sometimes it even startles me when I realize it. He moans again, softly, and I'm sure this time he's going to wake up. He doesn't.

I noticed Harm taking some aspirin out of the bag before but I never saw him take it. My own body aches when I move closer to him, lighting the makeshift lamp I put together using some rags and the old cans on the floor. This place will smoke up quickly and I don't want to risk falling asleep with it lit.

I'll just keep watching him.

**************

I wake up to the sound of the wind blowing even harder. They'll never be willing to fly search and rescue aircraft in this even if someone did know to look for us by now. Or to look here.

Moving doesn't hurt as much now but I just lie still, listening to the wind. It takes me a moment to realize that Mac is sitting up and watching me in the flickering light of a small fire.

"Hey," I say, trying to sit up. She motions for me to lie still and I gladly oblige. "You made a fire?"

"And boiled some rainwater. You need to drink a little as soon as you can sit up," she orders. I prop myself up on my elbows and she offers me some water in a container she must have found in the emergency kit. "Thanks."

I drink it down and hand her the cup back. "You okay?" she asks and I nod before lying back down again.

"I will be. How long have I been asleep?" I ask and she looks at her watch.

"A couple of hours . . . don't worry. I've been listening for planes or any sign of a search. There's been nothing so far," she says as she comes closer, lying down next to me. Her hand moves across my chest and amazingly, her touch doesn't hurt too much. I'm not ready to spring up off of these blankets but I imagine in a day or so, if no one finds us, I'll be able to get us out of this mess.

"You're warm," I say, taking her hand in mine. "Are you okay?"

"I've been better," she says, sighing. "Maybe it would be best if they never found us."

I know she's joking but she's right. There's going to be trouble when we get back and we've known that the whole time. I've worked on a number of cases concerning adultery in the last few years and have always thought it could be us someday. Most are handled without ever going to trial and someone just resigns. I always rationalized why it would never happen to us. No one would ever find out until we were ready for them to. Now it's too late for that. Two JAG lawyers have carried on an affair for years and I'm sure that one isn't going to escape anyone's notice.

"You don't believe that," I say, rolling towards her. It hurts but I manage to curl up with her in my arms. "You want to get back to May no matter what else happens."

She sighs gently and I pull her closer. "I know. I do. I . . . she's going to be so scared. She's got to be so scared. I can't believe this is happening."

"It will be okay. We're going to be okay," I say, and she starts crying again.

"There's just so much . . . we knew the regs, Harm. We know what can happen. God, what a damn mess . . ."

"We don't know what will happen and before it goes too far, I'll resign my commission. I . . . I can do something else. I can be a lawyer outside of the Navy. Maybe I'll even make some real money," I say and she turns to me, her hand brushing across my face.

"You could be a pilot . . ."

"Yeah. I have such a great record," I say and that makes her smile just a little.

"It will be okay," she says, trying to convince herself.

"Yes, it will be."

*************

September 13, 2010

All we seem to do is sleep. What else is there? The rain keeps coming down and we can't get anywhere. The ground beneath us is wet and cold and we can only keep the fire lit for so long until it gets too smoky in here. So in the black of night, we sleep, holding onto each other.

I turn to him but it's too dark to make out any of his features. Slipping my hand across his face to his cheek, I'm thankful that his temperature finally feels closer to normal. Before I can move, he catches my hand in his.

In the darkness, I can only feel his breath against my face as he pulls me on top of him. I kiss him and his face is rough from not shaving for a few days but I don't care. His tongue slips past my lips and we both pull away at the same time.

"Toothpaste. I need to put toothpaste in the emergency supplies," he says and I laugh. Instead of kissing again and we brush noses together. His hips press up and my laugh turns into a sigh.

"You sure you feel up for this?" I ask.

He presses even harder. "Yeah. I'm up for this."

"Good," I say and all of a sudden, nothing else seems to matter. Careers and consequences mean nothing as long as we have each other. His hands move to my hips and then to the zipper on my jeans. I shed them quickly and then he unfastens his own jeans, pushing them just far enough for this.

I settle on him, opening up for him and he moans, wrapping his hands around my waist. Fingers dig into my flesh as he positions me, moving me around above him. "Oh God . . ."

"You okay?" I ask, afraid of hurting him more.

"Stop asking that," he says, thrusting up and into me.

"I will as soon as I'm sure you really are okay."

"I'm okay now," he says and I push my hands against his chest, stilling him.

"Let me," I say and he doesn't say another word as I continue to rise and fall above him. One hand moves from my waist and brushes across my stomach and then lower. His touch feels so good. His touch that I can never seem to say no to. I'm not sure that matters now.

The wind continues to howl outside and I feel his body stiffen underneath mine and he shudders in his release, gasping for breath. His fingers stop circling for just a few seconds and then they start again and soon, silently, I follow him.

**********

She rolls off of me, nestling down on the damp blankets. I lie still, trying to catch my breath again. "Are you ever going to tell me what is wrong . . . what was wrong."

I stiffen up next to her and pull up my pants instead of answering. That certainly felt good while it was happening but now everything is getting sore again. We seem to always be ignoring the consequences of our actions.

"I . . . there was blood in my urine," I say and she sits up next to me. If I could see her, I'm sure her mouth would be open right now.

"A lot?" she asks, her hand moving across my abdomen. "Jesus, Harm. Why in the hell didn't you say anything?"

"I didn't want you to worry," I say and she pushes me over onto my side and her fingers travel over my lower backside until she hits a spot that makes me groan. "I think I bruised my kidneys. I did that before . . . a long time ago when I crashed the Tomcat onto the deck."

"How do you know it's not worse?" she asks, sounding far too worried.

"Because . . . I don't know, Mac. Because the blood has stopped and I just made love to you. I think if I were dying, I wouldn't have been able to pull that off," I say and she doesn't say anything in return for a long time.

"If it gets worse, I'm going to go get help," she says and I start to laugh. "What's wrong with you?"

"Do you remember Renee?" I ask and she answers with a clenched 'yes.' "She made me watch this movie once about a guy who left his mistress in a cave after they had an accident with a plane . . ."

"The English Patient?"

"I guess. Anyway, he goes off to get her help and she dies while she waits for him," I say, imagining me wasting away here in this little shack.

"That was different. They were in the desert. She . . . she couldn't move at all," Mac says and then she starts laughing, too. "I always thought that if he loved her that much, he would have carried her out of there on his back."

"I would . . .with you," I say and she falls silent. "I wouldn't leave you alone out here."

"I can't carry you, Harm. I may be a tough Marine, but I have my limits," she says, sounding worried now. There's no reason to worry.

"You aren't going to have to. I'm going to be fine," I say and she lies back down next to me, snuggling underneath my arm.

"You better not leave me now," she says. "I don't think I can go through . . . everything alone."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

**************

 

"Why did you marry him?" Harm asks and that stops me cold. I was trying to get more water and I never expected that question. Not after all these years.

"I didn't want to be alone. I didn't want to wait any longer. I wanted a family. There's so many reasons, Harm, I can't even remember them all," I say with a sigh, standing there with my hands upon my hips.

He doesn't look much better than he did yesterday and if he tells me one more time that's he's just fine, I'm going to scream. Now he's starting to ask stupid questions.

"You're sure she's mine?" he asks and my mouth falls open with disbelief.

"Why would you ask that?"

"Because I can't believe you stayed with him after you had my baby," Harm says, staring at me with glassy eyes.

"I can't believe you let me stay with him," I say, anger rising in my voice. I know he's sick and I don't have any clue why he's starting this now. Must be the fever talking. Too bad he doesn't really have that high of a fever. Or maybe it's a good thing. God only knows what he'd ask if he did.

"I was scared."

"You always have been," I counter and he just nods before closing his eyes.

"We're going to have to get out of here soon," he says and I listen to the rain continue to pound on the roof. "We can't hide here forever."

"What do you think we're hiding from?" I ask. I pour some water into the container and take it to him. He opens his eyes, sits up and drinks a sip.

"I think we're hiding from the fact that out there, our lives are screwed up now," he says and I shake my head.

"I want to get back to my daughter . . ."

"Our daughter?"

I stare at him, unaccustomed to hearing those words come from his mouth. "Yes. I want to get back to her. She's more important than anything else in the world."

"Did you ever want another one?" he asks and I have to think about it. All these years, it was so hard hiding what I believed to be true about May but I'm not sure with whom he thinks I would have wanted more children. Him or Mic or . . . I don't even know.

"I knew better than to wish for something I couldn't have. I have spent so much of my life doing that, you know. I was glad I had her," I say, closing my eyes and seeing her little face. I want to feel her in my arms so badly that they ache. My heart aches, too, and I just want to get back to her soon. "I was angry at you for so long, you know."

"Why?" he asks and I sigh. I suppose it was stupid of me to suspect he already knew.

"Because I wanted you to recognize she was yours. How could you be so blind?" I ask.

"You told me otherwise. You think the idea never occurred to me? I just figured that's not what you wanted. You wanted to marry Mic. You wanted to raise a family with him. I don't know what part I was suppose to play then," he says and he's right. I chose to stay with Mic at that point. I let him raise this child that now belongs to the three of us. I wanted the perfect family without any problems and now that's going to be gone.

"What part do you want to play now?" I ask, wondering if he's going to change his mind from everything we discussed earlier.

"I want the last few years back," he says, surprising me.

"You can't have that. I can't have that," I say. "We can't change a thing now. Are you feeling okay? You usually don't talk about these things."

"Maybe it's time," he says, closing his eyes again.

"You're worrying me," I say and he doesn't answer.

************

September 14, 2010

Another day slips away and the rain is finally letting up. It had to stop soon or the damn forest was just going to wash away. I'm frustrated by our lack of ability to do anything to help ourselves right now. In that frustration, I'm just making her mad.

I've lost my plane and quite possibly my career and I don't have any idea what direction this thing with Mic and May is going to go in. I hate not having control over so much at one time.

I stand up and stretch, which still hurts, but at least I can get up. If I can get up, we can get out of here soon. Tomorrow. If no one finds us by tomorrow, we have to move. I'm just not sure to where.

Going outside, I find Mac standing there, looking up at the sky. "How are you feeling?" she asks without looking at me.

"Better."

She continues to look upwards and there must be a reason. "I thought I heard something."

"A plane?" I ask looking up at the sky with her.

"I think . . . it was pretty far off," she says.

"If they find the wreckage, they'll know we're in the area and they'll know we got out of the crash alive," I say and she nods. "It won't be long now."

"Are you ready?"

"To finally face the consequences? I don't know," I say, looking away from the silent sky to the ground. "I never really imagined life outside of the Navy."

"We don't know if that's going to happen," she says. "We don't know anything yet."

"We know a few things."

"My marriage is over," she says with a sigh.

"That one is, but there's always the next one," I say and she turns to give me a strange look.

"Yesterday you were -"

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry about yesterday. I was frustrated because I can't do anything out here and it doesn't seem that anyone is ever going to start looking for us. I took it out on you and I shouldn't have," I say, reaching for her hand.

"They are looking for us. I know they are," she says and we both look to the sky as the clouds begin to roll in again, thick and dark.

"It's Tuesday," I say and she squeezes my hand. We both know that means.

"The whole office thinks we've gone AU together," she say, her voice faltering just a bit.

"The Admiral has to know by now. I'm sure Mic informed him when you didn't show up from Norfolk right away and it wouldn't take him to long to figure out the rest, especially since you had no reason to be in Norfolk," I say and the rain starts to lightly come down upon us again. We don't make a move to go back in. "I'm sure he is keeping this as discreet as possible."

"You really think some of these people didn't know before now?" she asks and I smile.

"Are you asking me whether I think the Admiral already knew? I think he's always known something was there between you and me. How big it is, that he might not know," I say, pulling her into my arms now as the rain begins to come down harder.

"Mic would never have stayed if he would have known. I wanted him to know, Harm. I always wanted him to guess but not like this. He doesn't know if I'm alive or not and I never wanted that," she says and I can tell she's trying hard not to cry. "May doesn't know where I am and I . . . I want to see her . . ."

"What's it like?" I ask her, trying to distract her from the emotions about to take over.

"What's what like?"

"Loving someone as much as you love her. What's it like?" I ask again and she smiles.

"There's no way to describe it," she says, her voice bubbling over with pride and love for that little girl. "Mic loves her that way, too, you know."

"You think I intend to take her away from Mic?" I ask, wondering why she would think such a thing. "That's her dad. I know what it's like to lose a dad and I would never do that to her, no matter what happens between you and me."

"I want you to love her like that, too," she says. "She's going to be unhappy about all of this but I want you to love her."

"I'd like to be able to do that," I say and we both slip back into the shack before the rain washes us away.

***************

September 15, 2010

"You ready?" Harm asks as I gather up the last of the blankets and put them where we found them. I watch as he tacks up a note telling someone the general direction we'll be heading in case they stumble across this place soon.

He steps back and looks at it while rubbing his lower back.

"Are you sure you're up to this?" I ask and he drops his hands quickly.

"I'm doing better. We can't stay here much longer, especially since it doesn't appear that anyone is going to find this place," he says, turning around and packing our supplies back in the bag. There's not much left in the way of food and water will be scarce once we leave here.

"Just don't overdo it, okay? You're not as young as you'd like to think you are," I say and he shakes his head.

"I'm not exactly ready to be put out to pasture yet, either," he says, tossing the bag towards the door.

"That's not what I meant and you know it. It's just that neither of us are getting any younger and all these bumps and bruises have to take their toll eventually," I say, sitting down on the piled up blankets until he's ready.

He finishes up one more thing and then comes and sits next to me, taking my hand in his. "Ready?" he asks.

"For what part of this?" I ask, choking back the tears that keep finding their way to my eyes.

"To go home. To see what happens next," he says. He takes my hand and looks at it, turning it over in his. "You didn't lose your rings in the crash, did you?"

"No. I still have them," I say, looking at my hand now, too.

"I'll have to get you another one . . . that is if you will . . ."

Before he can get the words out, the door goes flying open and the rest of the world comes crashing down around us.

***************

I watch her out of the corner of my eye as she talks to Mic. He watches me back, not hiding any of his disappointment. One of the search and rescue personnel takes a look at me and tries to bandage my hands but I can't stop fidgeting. I want to know what she's saying to him. What he's saying to her. I know at this point, it's between the two of them, but I'm . . . worried.

"This is what you wanted?" he says loudly and I look down at my hand. The person working on it is trying to ignore the whole situation and just do his job but I see him flinch when Mic's voice gets louder.

Mac says something back but I can't hear over the guy talking to me. "We'll have to get you to the hospital to check on any internal injuries," he says, finishing up my hand. "But judging from that wreckage, the two of you are lucky to be alive."

"Mic, I . . . I'm not ready to talk about his," Mac says as she walks away from him. The rage in his eyes is directed at me now.

"Yeah, lucky," I say back and the guy walks away. At least if Mic beats the shit out of me, someone here has bandages. He comes towards me, his hands held in fists at his side. I'm not going to fight him. What would the point of that be?

"So, this is how you do things?" Mic asks, with so much anger in his voice that he spits at me.

"Mic, listen . . ."

"No, you listen to me. She married me. I accepted that she really wanted you but she married me anyway because you were too cowardly to make a move. All you would have had to do is call and she would have gone running but you never did. Why in the fuck did you do it after she already decided? All those stupid little paper planes. Come fly with me. What in the hell were you thinking?" he asks, his face set like stone.

"I love her," I say and he just closes his eyes at my words. "She loves me."

"But she and I have a life together. A child . . ." he starts to say but then stops, his eyes opening slowly. He's putting everything together from what he suspects. How could he ever suspect this? "No . . ."

"Mic," I say, but it's too late. He turns around and goes after Mac.

************

I feel his hand on my shoulder one second before he spins me around. "I can accept the fact that you want him more than you want me but how could you lie about May?" Mic asks and I don't know what to say. Anything I tell him won't make it hurt any less.

"Mic, it doesn't matter who her biological . . ." before I can finish, he cuts me off with a blast of pained laughter.

"It doesn't? Of course it does, Sarah. I'm going to be left with nothing. He's got you. He always had you, though, didn't he? And now my daughter. Our daughter. Why didn't you just tell me then?" Mic asks and I can't remember all the reasons why I didn't tell him the truth. I only remember one thing.

"I didn't know," I say and he keeps his hands on my shoulders, gripping tighter than before. "I didn't know and I thought it would make things better between us. He didn't . . . it was over for a while then and I . . ."

"Had me to raise the kid he didn't want?" Mic asks, now looking over my shoulder. I turn around to see Harm standing there, arms crossed in front of him, not saying a word. "I love her, Sarah. I would have done it even had I known."

"But he didn't know. I lied to him, too," I say, my voice low now so all these people don't know more than they already do.

"Talk about bringing a discredit to the uniform," Mic says with a huff and I don't even want to get into that right now. "You had another officer's baby and never bothered to tell him it was his?"

"Yes," I say and Harm steps forward.

"Stay out of this, mate," Mic shouts at him but he keeps walking this way.

"Why don't we discuss this after we've had a time to cool down. Mac wants to see her daughter and I supposedly need to get to the hospital," Harm says and Mic looks like he's about to kill him.

"Our daughter," Mic says, his eyes focusing on me. "I'm not going to give her up that easily."

"No one said you were going to have to," Harm says, taking a step back from us.

"That's good. Because it's not going to happen," Mic says. He turns to me, his eyes filled with so much hurt that I can't keep looking at him. Then he walks off, leaving Harm and me standing there, staring at each other with apologetic expressions.

"Sorry to disturb you, but I just heard back that there's a clearing about a mile from here and they're bringing in the rescue helo to get you guys out of here and to a medical facility. Are you ready to move?" one of the searchers asks and we both turn to look at him.

"Yes," we both say at the same time before looking down at the ground.

I'll do anything to get away from all these people watching us.

**************

The doctor finishes up with his latest examination and writes up the orders for the nurse while he continues to give me directions. "We want to keep you here one more night for observation. Your kidneys are looking better but this is just to be safe," he says, still scribbling away.

I move my arm and brush the IV tubes aside. I hate being trapped here now but there's nothing I can do to make the time move any faster. I look up at the clock and then back at the doctor.

"You'll need to drink plenty of fluids and get some rest. You should be glad the damage wasn't worse or you would have died out in those woods," he says bluntly, looking at me over the top edge of his glasses.

I sigh. The damage is bad enough as it is. Family. Career. Trust. All gone.

"I've been in worse crashes," I comment and he ignores me and goes on.

"I'll be by to check you in my morning rounds and then I can probably discharge you," he says, finishing up one last thing in the big notebook before closing it and sliding it across the tiny tray table before me.

"Thanks," I say, and he just nods at me before heading out the door. Barely a minute goes by before I hear someone knocking.

"Harm?" I hear Mac ask.

"Yeah. Come in," I say and she enters my room holding May in her arms. She looks far too big for her mother to be carrying, but she doesn't let go. Her arms are wrapped tightly around Mac's neck and she looks quite content.

"May?" Mac says softly and May lifts her head. She brushes a strand of brown hair out of her eye and looks down at me. "Do you remember Captain Rabb? You met him at a party a while back?"

"No," May says, turning back to face her mother.

"May, this is Harm," Mac tries again and this time May turns to look at me curiously. "He's a friend of mine and I'd like you to get to know him, too."

She doesn't say anything. She just looks at me with the eyes of a child struggling to put all the pieces together.

"Hi, May. It's nice to see you again," I say, patting the edge of the bed. Mac sits down and May continues to cling to her.

"I want Daddy," May says to her mom and I can see the pain in Mac's expression.

"He's right outside, sweetheart. I just have to tell Harm some things and we'll go back and see Daddy," Mac says and May puts her head down upon her mother's shoulder.

For a second, I'm certain this is never going to work. There's no way I can ever be a part of this. And then May turns around and looks at me. "What happened to you? Were you in the plane with my Mommy?" she asks.

"I was flying the plane," I answer. I want to reach out and touch her thin, tanned arm but I don't. She just watches me closely, trying to figure out all the implications of what I just said in her young brain.

"You don't fly very well, do you?" she finally asks and I have to laugh.

"No, not always," I say and she turns back to her mom.

"We're going to drive her home. I'm going with them . . .you know, to give her a sense . . ." Mac starts to say and I nod my head. She stands up but doesn't leave right away.

"That's a good idea. I probably have to deal with the FAA and the plane once I get out of here anyway," I say and she stands and shifts May from one hip to the other. I want to tell Mac that it will be okay. That I love her and we'll get through this but I can't with May in the room. I don't know if we'll ever be able to get past that but I guess only time will tell.

Mic steps into the doorway, his eyes never looking my way. "Are you ready, Sarah?" he asks, and May slides out of Mac's arms and skips over to her dad.

"Give me a minute," she says and Mic picks up May and eventually turns away. The little girl latches onto her . . . onto Mic tightly, kissing him on the cheek before they go out the door.

"Are you going to be okay?" I ask, looking away from what just happened. Mac steps closer to the bed, putting hand goes over top of mine.

"It's going to be a mess. A long, legal mess, but I think we have some of it worked out. Now, we just have to take care of work and . . . the rest of it," she says, the tears welling up in her eyes. She moves her hand and crosses her arms in front of her as she sits back down on the edge of my bed, blinking back the tears.

I reach for a piece of paper the doctor left behind, instructions for something that I could care less about right now. I fold it quickly as best as I can with an IV in my one hand and then tap her on the shoulder with it. She turns around and almost smiles as she takes the paper airplane from me and turns it over and over in her hand.

"It's going to be okay," I say. She wipes away the tears and looks down at the folded paper.

"Yeah, someday it will be. It will all be okay."

****************

The End


End file.
